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14;  1128     IIIZ5 


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1.4    II  1.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


n 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagee 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pellicul^e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

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de  cet  e^'.emplaire  qui  sont  peut-etre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
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modification  dans  la  m6thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu^s  ci-dessous. 


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n 

D 
D 


Pages  damaged/ 
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Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d^colorees,  tachetees  ou  piquees 

Pages  detached/ 
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I      I    Showthrough/ 


Transparence 


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D 


Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 


n 


Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Quality  in^gale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 


D 


D 


0 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

Lareliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombie  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

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appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  et6  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 


aires  suppl^mentaires 


D 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


)r  partially  obscured  by  errata 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  err 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiell< 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errat 


lement 
a,  une  pelure. 


}S  par  un  reuiiiei  a  erraia,  une  pei 
6te  film^es  d  nouveau  de  facon  d 


obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible 


26X 


30X 


/ 

/ 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24  X 


28X 


32X 


Is 

J 

ifier 

ige 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grace  d  la 
g^n^rosit^  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet6  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformit6  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


3 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ►  (meaning   "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning   "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim6e  sont  film6s  en  commencant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derni^re  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d"impression  ou  d"illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  commencant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  coniporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derni^re  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
derni^re  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ♦-  signifie   "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN"". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  etre 
fllm^s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diff6rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  etre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


)ta 


lure. 


: 


2X 


1 

2 

3 

,      4 

5 

6 

(hoN< 
ly  pai 

city,  a 

Fw*  ; 

leaves' 

of  the 
which 
one  o< 
Ameri< 
arrived 
adopte' 

flttODI 

the  ov( 
calmer, 
on  the 
the  Noi 
public 
for  Iris 


"1 


PREFACE. 


*  Om  ff Began"  is  not  new  to  the  Irish  Catholics,  at  least,  of 
the  New  World.    It  appeared  first  in  the  American  Celt,  a  week- 
ly paper,  conducted  by  my  friend,  Hon.  T,  D.  McGoe,  in  thi« 
city,  and  was  recently  re-published  in  the  columns  of  the  Neu 
York  TaiUt.    The  "plain  unvarnished  tale"  whi'.'i  "blots  the 
leaves"  of  this  volume  was  meant  to  point  a  moral  that  is  well 
woriny  the  attention  of  Irish  emigrants  to  these  western  shores 
of  the  Atlantic.    It  was  written  in  connection  with  a  movement 
which  it  is  pleasant  even  t ^  remember— the  Bufiklo  Convention, 
one  of  the   best-conceived    .ilans  ever  brought   before  the 
American-Irish  for  the  p    /lanent  advantage  of  thei»  newly- 
arrived  compatriots:  a  plan  which,  if  it  had  been  generally 
adopted  and  carried  out,  might  have  been  of  incalculable  bene- 
fit to  many  thousands  of  the  Irish  race,  by  removmg  them  from 
the  overcrowded  cities  of  our  Atlantic  seaboard  to  the  safer, 
calmer,  and  more  healthful  pursuits  of  agricultural  life,  whether 
on  the  smiling  prairies  of  the  West,  or  by  the  great  waters  of 
the  North.    Bub  although  the  Buffalo  Convention,  for  want  of 
riublic  encouragement,  faUed  iu  doing  what  it  was  meant  to  do 
for  Irish  emigrants,  a  day  may  come  when  its  wise  provision 


--""I 


If 


■•REFACK 


Will  be  eagerly  adopted  to  meet  the  wanU  of  the  multitude, 
who  are  hurrying  all  too  fast  from  the  Old  Land  which  we  all 
love  but  which  many  of  us,  alasl  shall  see  never  more.    Should 
that  day  come,  it  will  be  well  for  the  old  race  in  America,  but 
should  it  not  come,  and  should  posterity  forever  ignore  the  no- 
ble  effort  that  was  once  made  to  turn  the  tide  of  emigration  mto 
a  safe  and  saving  channel,  I  desire  here  to  place  on  record,  onco 
for  all,  the  high-souled  generosity,  the  noble  disinterestedness, 
and  the  entire  devotedness  of  the  hundred  gentlemen,  some  of 
them  ecclesiastics,  venerable  in  years  and  in  high  repute  for 
wisdom  and  virtue,  all  of  them  more  or  less  distinguished,  who 
met,  some  eight  years  ago,  in  the  border  city  of  Buffalo,  on  the 
confines  of  British  America,  to  deliberate  on  the  best  means  of 
promoting  the  permanent  interests  of  Irish  emigranta  to  the 
New  World.    If  the  Conventiou  did  not  do  all  the  good  they 
koped  and  expected  from  it,  the  fault,  assuredly,  was  not  theim. 


fOUl 

dooi 


Win 

(I ' 

And 
was 
Bpea 
time 
for  1 
hour 
seek 
noti< 
for  1 


f 


of  the  muUitadei 
Land  which  we  all 
5ver  more.    Should 
ice  in  America,  but 
ever  ignore  the  no- 
B  of  emigration  into 
ace  on  record,  onco 
e  disinterestedness, 
gentlemen,  some  of 
in  high  repute  for 
I  distinguished,  who 
y  of  Buffalo,  on  the 
in  the  best  means  of 
ih  emigrants  to  the 
o  all  the  good  they 
redly,  was  not  theira, 


CON    O'EEGAN; 


OR, 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD- 


CHAPTER  I. 


On«  colJ,  bleak  morning,  in  the  fall  of  1844,  a 
foung  woman  timidly  approached  the  fateful  half- 
door  in  the  Post  Office  of  a  New  England  city. 

"  Have  you  e'er  a  letter,  if  you  please,  sir,  for 
Winny  O'Regan  ?" 

"No,  my  good  girl,  nothing  for  you  to-day." 
And  the  dry,  official  response  of  the  Post  Office  clerk 
was  unconsciously  changed  to  a  softer  tone,  for  the 
speaker  was  an  Irish  Protestant,  and  he  did  feel,  at 
times,  more  sympathy  than  people  would  imagine, 
for  the  quiet,  civil-spoken  emigrants  who  daily  and 
hourly  addressed  him  in  home-accents,  anxiously 
seeking  news  from  hia  own  land.  Besides,  he  had 
noticed  this  same  Winny  O'Regan  almost  every  day 
for  the  last  fortnight,  asking,  but  in  vain,  the  pvao 


J  cov  o'reoan'  ;  OB, 

question,  and  his  brief  negative  was  every  day  chroni- 
cled in  deeper  sadness  on  her  pale,  care-worn  fea- 
tures.    Tliere    was    something    touching,    too,    in 
"Winny's  appearance  when  one  came  to  examine  her 
closely.     She  was  a  tall,  thin  girl,  of  some  three  or 
four-and-twecty  years,  with  a  soft  dark  eye  and  a 
pensive  oast  of  countenance.    Sorrow  had  evidently 
chilled  the  warm  glow  of  youth  in  Winny's  tempera- 
ment, and  chastened  her  down  to  the  sedate  gravity  - 
of  more  mature  years.     Her  dark  hair  was  smoothly 
and  carefully  arranged  on  either  side  of  her  high, 
pale  brow,  taking  something  from  its  breadth,  which 
would  otherwise  have  been  remarkable.    Her  hands 
were  small  and  well-formed,  though  much  discolored 
and  intersected  in  every  direction  by  those  unseemly 
hacks  in  the  skin  which  denote  labor  of  the  hardest 
kind.    It  was  late  in  the  fall,  and  yet  Winny  was 
Bcantly  clothed,  and  looked,  on  the  whole,  rather 
woe-begone.     All  this  the  clerk  had  noticed,  and 
somehow,  with  all  her  apparent  poverty,  it  struck 
him  that  the  girl  had  seen  better  days.    She  seemed 
80  anxious,  moreover,  about  the  letter  from  Ireland, 
that  it  went  to  the  young  man's  heart,  for  he,  too, 
was,  at  times,  eagerly  expectant  of  "news  from 
home,"  where  he  had  lefl  an  aged  mother  and  vwo 
young  sisters  close  by  "  pastoral  Bann,"  in  the  ver- 
dant holmes  of  Down.     But  he  had  no  time  to  ques- 
tion Winny,  for  scores  of  others  were  demanding 
bis  attention  in  the  quick,  authoritative  style  pecu- 
liar to  bustling,  self-important  Yankees.     So  Mai- 


C( 
01 
Ol 

fa 

ite 
w< 

to 
Al 
an 
do 
th( 
int 
loa 
th( 
an( 
doi 

Ca 

1 

hoi 

int( 

joj 
ing 

8m< 

thai 
thic 
glac 


L 


;ry  day  dironi* 
jare-worn  fea^ 
liing,    too,    in 
o  examine  her 
some  three  or 
ark  eye  and  a 
had  evidently 
nny'8  tempera- 
sedate  gravity  . 
r  was  smoothly 
e  of  her  high, 
breadth,  which 
)le.    Her  hands 
luch  discolored 
those  unseemly 
■  of  the  hardest 
jret  Winny  was 
3  whole,  rather 
,d  noticed,  and 
verty.  it  struck 
'B.    She  seemed 
er  from  Ireland, 
jart,  for  he,  too, 
of  "news  from 
nother  and  vwo 
ann,"  in  the  ver- 
no  time  toques- 
vere  demanding 
alive  style  pecu- 
ukees.     So  Mai- 


EMIORAXT  UFK  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD.  "^ 

colmson  waa  fain  to  put  the  sad-looking  Irish  girl 
out  of  his  bead,  and  with  her  the  white  cottage 
on  tho  sweet  Ban-side  which  the  sight  of  her  wist, 
fal  face  had  somehow  conjured  up. 

As  for  Winny  O'Regan,  she  turned  away  with  a 
sickening  sense  of  despondency,  and  a  tear  found 
Its   way  unhidden   to  her  eye,   as,  gathering   her 
woollen   shawl  around  her,  she  retraced  her  steps 
toward*  her  present  dwelling— Ao»ic  it  was  not. 
All  at  once  she  was  reminded  by  the  basket  on  her 
ai  ra  that  she  had  to  go  to  market.     Having  turned 
down  a  side-street  which  was  her  nearest  way  to 
the  market,  she  was  hurrying  on  with  a  rapid  pace, 
intending  to  make  up  for  the  few  minutes  she  had 
lost,  but  was  suddenly  brought  to  a  dead  pause  by 
the  apparition  of  a  young  man  in  a  gray  frieze  coat 
and  corduroy  breeches,  who,  starting  out  of  a  shop- 
door,  accosted  her  with — 

"Winny!  Winny  O'Regan!  is  this  yourself? 
Can't  you  take  time  to  speak  to  a  body  ?" 

Dropping  the  basket  from  her  arm,  Winny  took 
hold  of  the  stranger  with  both  hands,  and  looked 
into  bis  frank,  love-breathing  face,  with  eyes  full  of 
joyful  tears,  her  color  changing  and  her  lip  quiver- 
ing. A3  soon  as  she  could  speak,  she  exclaimed  in 
smothered  accents — 

"  The  Lord  be  praised,  Con  dear !  Is  it  yourself 
that's  in  it?  I  was  beginnin'  to  be  afeard  that  some- 
thing had  happened  you.  Oh !  sure,  sure,  but  I'm 
glad  to  see  you!    An'  how  did  you  leave  all  at 


■  CON  o'reoan  ;  or, 

hom6t  How  are  Biddy  and  the  children,  an'— 
an'—"  her  voice  trembled,  "  an'  my  poor  mother  f 
Con,  darlin' !  how  are  they  all?  and  did  yon  get  my 

last  letter  ?"  ^    ,.  u 

"  If  I  didn't  how  would  I  be  here,  yon  foolish 
girl  ?"  Baid  Con,  trying  hard  to  keep  in  his  tears, 
although  half  forgetting  where  he  was  in  his  joy  at 
finding  Winny.  "An'  sure  they're  all  well  an' 
hearty  at  home,  barrin'— "  he  stopped,  looked  hard 
at  Winny,  and  then  bit  his  lip,  as  though  deter- 
mined at  all  hazards  to  keep  in  what  waa  just  com- 
ing out. 

"  Barrin'  who.  Con  ?''    inquired  his  sister,  anx- 
iously. 

"  Oh !  Mary  Malone— my  uncle  John's  Mary.    She 

died  last  May  was  a  year,  of  decline." 

"  The  Lord  be  good  to  her  soul !"  said  Winny, 
with  deep  feeling,  "  an'  so  she's  gone  at  last.  Poor 
Mary  !  well,  thank  God,  it's  no  one  else,  for  some- 
how it  was  my  mother  I  waa  thinkin'  of.  How  does 
she  look.  Con  ?    Is  age  beginnin'  to  show  on  her?" 

«'  Well,  no !"  said  Con,  with  a  sort  of  hesitation 
that  Winny  could  not  well  account  for ;  "  the  last 
time  I  saw  her,  Winny,  she  looked  as  young,  ay  ! 
an'  younger  than  she  did  the  day  you  left  home." 
That  was  true  enough,  for  the  widowed  mother  wiia 
then  laid  out  in  her  brown  habit,  a  fair  and  "  comely 
corpse,"  as  the  neighbors  all  declared.  The  sorrowa 
of  long  years  had  vanished  at  the  moment  of  death, 
and  a  smile  of  ineffable  joy  rested  on  the  thin,  pal« 


lips, 

rest, 
once 
clay. 
for  B 
fnlh 
para 

"] 
"If 
iu  y 
abro 
luck 
an'  s 

"] 
you 
atcp 
hurr 
back 

"] 
anira 
right 
here 

"( 
Win 
"  He 
fond 
wife' 
awaj 

Tl: 
medi 


bilclrea,  an'— 
poor  mother  f 
id  you  get  my 

■e,  yoo  foolish 
p  in  his  tears, 
IB  in  hia  joy  at 
I  all  well  an' 
a,  looked  hard 
though  deter* 
was  just  corn- 

is  Bister,  aux- 
in's Mary.    She 

!"  said  Winny, 
9  at  last.  Poor 
else,  for  some- 
of.    How  does 

show  on  her?" 
rt  of  hesitation 

for ;  "  the  last 
I  as  young,  ay  I 
jrou  left  home." 
ved  mother  was 
air  and  "  comely 
J.  The  sorrows 
oment  of  death, 
on  the  thin,  paU 


KUIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NKW  WORI.0.  f 

tips,  announcing  that  the  weary  had  at  length  found 
rest.  But  it  would  never  do  to  tell  Winny  all  at 
once  that  the  mother  she  so  loved  was  cold  in  the 
clay.  At  least  so  Con  thought,  and  Con  was  right, 
for  such  tidings  would  have  broken  Winny's  faith- 
ful hea^-t,  had  they  come  upon  her  without  due  pre- 
paration. 

"  But  where  do  you  live,  "Winny  dear  ?"  said  Con, 
*'  I  forgot  the  name  of  the  street  that  you  mentioned 
ill  your  letter,  an'  I  just  went  into  this  shop  here 
abroad  to  look  over  the  letter  again,  when,  as  good 
luck  would  have  it,  I  was  standiu'  near  the  door, 
an'  seen  you  passin'  by." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  haven't  a  place  of  my  own  to  take 
you  to.  Con,"  said  Winny,  sadly,  "  but  if  you'll  just 
step  down  with  me  to  the  market  (for  I'm  iu  a  great 
hurry),  I'll  leave  you  at  Paul  Bergen's  on  my  way 
back.    You  remember  Paul,  Oion't  you  ?' 

"Is  it  Paul  Bergen?"  cried  Cou,  with  sudden 
animation ;  "  why,  then,  to  be  sure  I  do,  Winny,  an' 
right  glad  I'll  be  to  see  him.  How  is  he  doin'  out 
here  ?" 

"  Only  middling.  Con,  only  just  middling,"  said 
Winny,  as  they  walked  quickly  along  side  by  side. 
"  lie  might  be  better  than  he  is,  if  he  wasn't  so 
fond  of  the  drop,  He  has  a  long  family,  an'  his 
wife's  health  is  none  of  the  best.  She's  wcarin' 
away  fast,  poor  woman  !" 

There  was  a  short  silence,  during  which  Con's 
meditations  seemed  rsither  of  a  sombre  character. 


10 


CON  o'regan  ;  OR, 


At  last  he  said,  as  if  pursuing  the  same  train  of 
thought,  "  Au'  yourself,  Winny  dear  ? — how  do  you 
make  out  ?"  The  words  were  not  much  in  ihem- 
selves,  but  the  glance  that  accompanied  them 
touched  Winny's  heart,  for  it  said  as  plain  as  could 
bo :  "  You  are  not  so  well  oiFas  I  expected  to  find 
you." 

Winny's  eyes  filled  wilh  tears,  but  she  tried  to 
answer  cheerfully  :  "  How  could  I  send  eo  much 
money  home  if  1  wasn't  doin'  well  ?  You  mustn't 
mind  my  clothes,  Con,  for  you  know  I'm  about  my 
business  now.  Wait  till  Sunday,  and  you'll  see 
how  fine  I'll  be." 

But  Con's  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  gloveless  hands, 
and  his  cheek  reddened  as  he  said  :  "  I  see  its  not  at 
the  dressmaking  you  are,  after  all ;  your  poor  hands 
are  redder  and  coarser  than  they  used  to  be ;  an' 
your  face,  too,  is  paler  and  thinner— oh,  Winny, 
Winny !  I'm  afeard  you  earned  that  money  you  sent 
us  harder  than  we  thought."  There  was  a  guttural 
Bound  in  his  voice,  as  if  something  choked  his  utter- 
ance, and  the  light  faded  from  his  full  blue  eye.  "  He 
was  moved  even  to  tears,  but  he  dared  not  weep 
where  so  many  cold,  strange  eyes  were  upon  him. 
Winny  saw  her  brother's  emotion,  and  somehow  it 
was  very  soothing  to  her  heart,  so  long  unused  to 
borne  sympathies. 

"  No  matter  how  it  was  earned,"  said  she  briskly, 
"  it  just  went  the  road  it  ought  to  go.  What  do  I 
want  with  money  only  to  make  you  all  comfortabl*  ? 


I  wi 

more 
sewi 
Tl 
Con 
sighl 
the 
his  : 
disp 
theri 
meal 
chan 
even 

y 

mad 

Ber| 

take 

und( 

the 

for  I 

oft' 

tos( 

thre 

in  fi 

in  a 

and 

8eiz( 

she 

tOWi 

was 


eamo  train  of 
? — how  do  you 
much  in  them- 
mpanied  them 
8  plain  as  could 
spected  to  find 

ut  ehe  tried  to 
send  60  much 
?  You  mustn't 
7  I'm  about  my 
and  you'll   seo 

gloveless  hands, 
"  I  see  ita  not  at 
(four  poor  hands 
used  to  be;  an' 
er— oh,  Winny, 
money  you  sent 
J  was  a  guttural 
jhoked  his  utter- 
lU  blue  eye.  "  He 
dared  not  weep 
were  upon  him. 
and  somehow  it 
long  unused  to 

said  she  briskly, 
go.  What  do  I 
all  comfortabltt  ? 


EMIORANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORM). 


u 


£  wasn't  long  here  till  I  found  that  I  could  earn 
more  at  housework,  as  they  call  it,  than  I  could  at 
sewing,  so  it  was  all  one  to  me,  you  know." 

They  had  by  this  ^ime  reached  the  market,  and 
Con  was  so  lost  in  wonder  at  the  novelty  of  the 
sight,  that  all  other  thoughts  were  suspended  for 
the  time  being.  He  used  to  think  the  shambles  in 
his  market-town  at  home  presented  a  magnificent 
display  of  meat,  but  what  was  it  to  this?  Surely 
there  could  never  be  people  found  to  buy  half  that 
meat.  Winny  laughed,  and  said  he  would  soon 
change  his  mind  when  he  had  lived  a  few  years,  or 
even  months,  in  a  city  like  that. 

Winny  having  made  the  necessary  purchases, 
made  the  best  of  her  way  home,  stopping  at  Paul 
Bergen's,  to  introduce  her  brother.  Paul  had  latterly 
taken  up  his  abode  in  a  cellar  some  eight  or  ten  feet 
under  ground.  The  damp  was  oozing  out  through 
the  floor,  and  the  place  had  a  cold,  cheerless  look, 
for  although  there  was  a  stove  right  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  opposite  the  bedroom  door,  it  seemed 
to  send  forth  but  little  heat,  Round  it  were  gathered 
three  young  children,  crouching  on  the  boards,  while 
in  front  sat  a  pale,  sickly-looking  woman,  wrapped 
in  a  faded  plaid  shawl,  nursing  an  infant  as  pale 
and  ghastly  as  herself  The  cold  seemed  to  have 
seized  on  the  poor  mother's  heart,  for  ever  and  anon 
she  trembled  like  an  aspen,  and  leaned  forward 
towards  where  warmth  ought  to  be,  but,  unhappily, 
was  not.     Alas!  for  poor  Nora  Bergen— pale  and 


12 


coK  o'beoan  ;  OR, 


cold,  and  poverty-stricken  as  she  sat  there,  she  had 
been  once  the  envy  of  many  a  maiden,  and  the  pride 
of  many  a  loving  heart.  Nora  Bergen  had  been  for 
years  the  rustic  bells  of  "  v  country  side,"  and  though 
it  was  hard  to  recognize  any  trace  of  beauty  in  the 
squalid  mipery  of  her  present  appearance,  there  were 
Btill  certain  lineaments  that  marked  her  identity, 
otherwise  doubtful. 

Con  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes  that  the  figure 
bet'ora  him  was  an  old  acquaintance;  but  conviction 
forced  itself  upon  him,  however  reluctantly,  when 
he  heard  Winny  say  : 

"Good  morning  Mrs.  Bergen;  how  do  you  feel 

to-day,  ma'am?" 

"Why,  not  much  belter,  Winny;  I  have  the 
chills  very  bad  on  me  the  day,  an'  we  have  hardly  a 
Bpark  ot  fire,  you  see,  for  Paul  was  to  send  home 
some  coal  to  us  before  goin'  to  his  work,  an'  I  think 
he  muBt  havj  forgot  all  about  it.  But  who  is  this 
you  have  with  you?" 

"Ah,  then,  don't  you  know  him,  Mrs.  Bergen, 
dear?— sure  isn't  it  our  Con,  all  the  way  from  Bal- 
lymullen ;  why  I  thought  you'd  know  him  if  you 
met  him  in  Africa,  let  alone  here." 

"  Why,  the  Lord  bless  me,  Con  O'Regan,  is  it 
you  that's  in  it  ?  Come  over  here  an'  give  me  your 
hand,  for  I'm  not  able  to  stand  up  oflF  o'  my  seat. 
Sure  enough,  I  heard  you  were  coraiu'  out,  but 
'  somehow  I  was  in  hopes  you  wouldn't.  Ah,  then, 
Con,  I  wish  you  had  stayed  at  home.    I'm  glad  to 


b  there,  she  had 
in,  and  the  prido 
jen  had  been  for 
ide,"  and  thotigh 
of  beauty  in  the 
ance,  there  were 
2d  her  identity, 

8  that  the  figure 
;  but  conviction 
eluctantly,  when 

iiow  do  you  feel 

ny;  I  have  the 
we  have  hardly  a 
,8  to  send  home 
work,  an'  I  think 
But  who  is  this 

m,  Mrs.  Bergen, 
le  way  from  Bal- 
;now  him  if  you 

Q  O'Rcgan,  is  it 
an'  give  me  your 
ip  off  o'  my  seat, 
coraiu'  out,  but 
ihln't.  Ah,  then, 
me.    I'm  glad  to 


EHI6BANT  MFE  IN  THR  NEW  WOnLD. 


IS 


nee  you,  an'  I'm  sorry  to  see  you.  But,  my  good- 
ness, Winny,  isn't  it  all  like  a  drame  ?— oh  1  oh ! 
but  it's  the  weary,  weary  world.  But  won't  you 
sit  down,  Winny  ? — run,  children,  an'  get  a  couple 
of  chairs !" 

Thus  she  ran  on,  endeavoring  to  hide  her  confu- 
sion under  a  show  of  cheerful  animation  that  made  il 
Blill  more  conspicuous.     Winny  had  barely  time  to 
commend  her  brother  to  Mrs,  Bergen's  hospitality 
for  the  present,  and  then  hurried  away,  leaving  that 
poor  woman  much  distressed  in  mind  on  account  of 
her  inability  to  entertain  Con  O'Regan  as  her  kind 
heart  would  wish.     Calling  to  her  a  litt'.e  boy  of 
some  six  or  seven  years,  the  eldest  of  those  who 
were  lounging  round  the  stove,  she  whispered  to 
him  to  try  if  there  wasn't  e'er  a  bit  of  coal  or  any- 
thing to  make  a  fire.     Off  went  the  little  bright- 
faced  fellow  diving  into  a  sort  of  hole  in  the  wall, 
and,  after  some  search,  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
find  a  little  coal,  which  he  proceeded  to  put  in  tLe 
Btove,  his  mother's  face  assuming  a  more  oheefful 
expression  as  she  saw  it  beginning  to  burn. 

"  Now,  Patsey,  my  son,  since  you  have  done  so 
well,  will  you  just  put  some  water  in  the  kettle  and 
set  it  on  the  fire  till  we  make  a  cup  of  tea  for  Con 
O'Regan  ?" 

Con  protested  that  he  had  no  need  of  anything, 
but  he  might  as  well  have  .kept  silent,  for  Mrs. 
Bergen  was  only  sorry  she  had  nothing  better  to 


14 


CON  o'reoan  ;  OR, 


offer  him,  but  sure  a  warm  cup  of  tea  would  do  him 
no  harm  that  cold  raw  morning. 

"I  wonder  what's  keeping  Jane,  cliildren,"  said 
the  mother ;  "  I  told  her  not  to  stay  on  any  account." 
Just  as  she  spoke,  the  door  opened,  and  down  the 
stops  came  a  little  girl  about  twelve  years  old,  with 
a  pretty,  intelligent-looking  face,  but  poorly  and 
meanly  clad. 

"  Well,  Jane,  did  you  see  your  father  ?"  was  the 
first  question. 

"  I  did,  mother,  but  he  wouldn't  go ;  he  said  we 
had  coal  enough  till  the  evening."  And  then  she 
whispered  something  to  her  mother,  who  blushed 
deeply,  and  said,  " Husht !  husht !' 

The  little  girl  was  then  introduced  as  Mrs.  Ber- 
gen's eldest  daughter,  and  having  taken  a  bashful, 
Btealthy  look  at  the  stranger  from  Ireland,  she  set 
about  getting  the  tea,  which  she  did  in  a  neat,  tidy 
way,  that  showed  her  well  accustomed  to  such  little 
offices.  Whilst  the  simple  repast  was  in  prepara- 
tion, Mrs.  Bergen  kept  asking  a  thousand  questions 
about  places  and  persons  long  unseen,  but  never  to 
be  forgotten,  filemory  was  busy  with  the  poor  heart- 
broken woman,  and  the  present  was  all  but  forgotten 
in  the  bright  reminiscences  of  the  past,  Con  all 
the  time  observing  her  with  painful  interest.  Pre- 
sently there  came  a  loud  knock  to  the  door,  and  Mrs. 
Bergen's  faint  "  come  in,"  was  followed  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  tall  young  man,  in  a  round  jacket  and 
» low-crowned  tarpaulin  hat,  such  as  sailors  are  wont 


to  we 

glow, 

about 

Mri 

comei 

he  CO' 

one  If 

The  I 

byth 

sti-an] 

thefl 

notic 

greei 

"\ 

hom( 

hard 

"( 

your 

Con, 

Bure 

fello 

old 
(I ' 

Con 
(I 

Im 

was 
thoi 

new 


EMIORAST  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


u 


wonld  do  him 

iliildren,"  said 
any  account," 
md  down  the 
rears  old,  with 
t  poorly  aud 

ier?"  was  the 

);  he  said  we 

A.nd  then  she 

who  blushed 

I  as  Mrs.  Ber- 
gen a  bashful, 
eland,  she  set 
in  a  neat,  tidy 
1  to  such  little 
ks  in  prepara- 
land  questions 
but  never  to 
he  poor  heart- 
but  forgotten 
past,  Con  all 
iiterest.  Pre- 
loor,  and  Mrs. 
ed  by  the  ap- 
id  jacket  and 
ilors  are  wont 


to  wear.  His  face  was  flushed  with  an  unnatural 
glow,  and  there  was  a  swaggering,  blustering  air 
about  him  which  was  anything  but  prepossessing. 

Mrs.  Bergen  seemed  in  no  haste  to  greet  the  new- 
comer, but  the  children  aU  gathered  around  him  as 
he  coolly  took  possession  of  a  chair  with  the  air  of 
one  who  is  determined  to  make  bimself  at  home. 
The  presence  of  our  friend  Con  was  quickly  noticed 
by  this  personage,  who,  after  leisurely  surveying  the 
stranger,  squirted  a  mouthful  of  tobacco-spittle  over 
the  floor,  and  turning  to  Mrs.  Bergen  avLo  had  only 
noticed  his  entrance  by  a  silent  nod,  asked  who  the 
greenhorn  might  be. 

"  Why,  that's  Con  O'Regan  from  our  place  at 
home.  I  thought  you  knew  him,  Tom,  but  sure  it's 
hard  for  you  to  remember  anything  now." 

•'  Con  O'Regan,  from  Ballymullen  1"  repeated  the 
young  man ;  "  the  deuce  it  is  !  Give  me  your  hand, 
Con,  and  let  me  have  a  proper  look  at  you.  Why, 
sure  enough,  you  do  look  something  like  a  littlo 
fellow  of  that  name  that  used  to  go  to  school  to 
old  Vinegar-face." 

"  You  mean  Master  O'Connor,  I  suppose,    said 
Con,  with  a  heightened  color. 

"  To  be  sure  I  do,  the  old  rascal !  who  else  should 
I  mean?  And  so  you're  little  Con  O'Regan-that 
was,"  he  added,  as  he  took  in  at  a  glance  the  sinewy 
though  slender  proportions  of  the  other.  "By 
jingo !  I'm  confounded  glad  to  see  you.  And  what 
news  from  the  old  sod  ?" 


16 


CON  o'reoax  ;  OR, 


"Nothing  worth  speaking  of,"  said  Con,  very 
coolly,  for  he  was  by  no  means  taken  with  his  new 
companion ;  "  may  I  make  so  free  as  to  ask  who  you 
are,  now  that  you  know  who  Jam  ?" 

"  All  right,  old  feliow.  It  seems  you  don't  keep 
spite,  or  you'd  remember  Tom  Derragh  ?" 

The  glow  deepened  on  Con's  face,  for  he  had 
been  gradually  calling  forth  from  the  storehouse  of 
memory  certain  disagreeable  reminiscences  of  his 
wjhooldays,  in  which  this  same  Tom  Derragh  had 
borne  a  prominent  part.  He  had  been  the  biilly  of 
the  school,  and  poor  Con  being  much  younger  than 
hfe,  had  often  suffered  from  his  arbitrary  and  op- 
pressive sway.  Yet  in  those  early  days  Tom  had 
not  been  without  some  good  traits,  and  with  all 
his  faults  he  had  many  friends.  Observing  Con's 
change  of  countenance,  Tom  burst  into  a  loud 
laugh,  and  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder,  bade  him 
forget  and  forgive. 

"  Don't  you  know  what  old  Father  Ilalligan  used 
to  say;  eh,  Con?"  another  slip  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Is  the  old  fellow  living  or  dead — which  ?  lie  was 
a  great  hand  at  talking,  and  used  to  come  it  over  us 
plick.  By  George,  I  used  to  tliink  him  a  great  man 
all  out!  Ila!  ha'  ha!  weren't  wo  green  in  those 
days,  Con  ?" 

"If  respect  fur  Father  Ilalligan,  or  any  other  priosh, 
made  us  green,  as  you  call  it,  I'm  just  as  green  niill," 
naid  Con  O'Regan,  "  and  I  tell  you  plainly,  Tom 
Derr.igh,  that  I  won't  sit  by  and  hear  you,  or  any 


one  el 
specie 

"Tl 
with  ! 
touch; 
There 
I  was 
but  I  I 
by  jap 

"W 
firmly 

get  th 

•<^ 

if  wo  I 
into  I 
coin  V 
and  C! 
to  fet( 
whicli 
"If 
Con,  I 
the  d( 
it  bac' 
of  sen 
eetot 

tion ; 
"N 
gettir 
all  th 


EUIOBANT  LIFE  IN  THF.  NKW  WORLD 


IT 


aid  Con,  very 
I  with  liis  new 
to  ask  who  you 

'ou  don't  keep 
3h?" 

B,  for  he  had 
storehouse  of 
scences  of  liia 

Derragh  had 
sn  the  bully  of 
younger  than 
trary  and  op- 
lays  Tom  had 
,  and  with  all 
serving  Con's 

into   a   loud 
ider,  bade  him 

ITalligan  used 
tlio  shoulder, 
ich  ?  lie  wa3 
ome  it  over  us 
n  a  great  man 
;reeu  iu  those 

y  other  prirsh, 

18  green  Hiill," 

plainly,  Tom 

r  you,  or  any 


one  else,  making  little  of  them  that  ought  to  be  re- 
spected." 

"  There  now,"  said  Tom,  turning  to  Mrs.  Bergen, 
with  another  of  his  coarse  laughs,  "  they're  all  so 
touchy  about  religion  when  they  come  out  first. 
There's  my  hand  on  it.  Con,  I  didn't  mean  any  harm. 
I  was  just  like  you  in  that  respect  when  I  came  here, 
but  I  soon  got  over  my  pettishaess,  and  so  will  you, 
by  japers!" 

"  With  the  help  of  God,  I  never  will,"  replied  Con, 
firmly;  "  I  hope  I'll  never  see  the  day  when  I'll  for- 
get the  respect  duo  the  clargy." 

"  Well !  well  I  never  mind,"  cried  Tom ;  "  let's  see 
if  wo  can't  make  it  np.'  Then  thrusting  his  hand 
into  his  breeches  pocket,  he  drew  out  the  solitary 
coin  which  still  remained  after  his  last  night's  revel, 
and  calling  to  him  little  Patsey  Bergen,  he  told  him 
to  fetch  a  half  pint  of  brandy  or  gin — he  didn't  care 
which. 

"  If  it's  for  mo  you  mean  the  treat,  Tom,"  observed 
Con,  as,  arresting  the  boy  in  his  progress  towards 
the  door,  and  taking  the  money  from  him,  he  gave 
it  back  to  Tom,  "  you  may  spare  yourself  the  trouble 
of  acndin'  out.  I  thank  you  all  the  same,  but  I'm  a 
eetotaller." 

"  The  deuce  you  are,"  cried  Tom,  with  real  vexa- 
tion ;  "  and  so  you'll  not  take  anything  ?" 

•'  Nothing  of  that  kind,  Tom.  Mrs.  Bergen  is 
gettin'  some  tea  made,  an'  I'll  take  a  cup  of  it,  with 
all  the  pleasure  in  life."    Mrs.  Bergen  could  not  do 


18 


CON  o'rboan  ;  01, 


less  than  ask  Tom  to  have  a  cap  of  the  tea  which 
Jane  just  then  placed  on  a  small  table  near  her 
mother.  But  Tom  said  he  wouldn't  give  a  fig  for 
all  the  tea  in  America,  and  pulling  out  his  pipe,  pre. 
pared  for  a  smoke,  while  Con  partook  of  Mrs.  Ber- 
gen's humble  fare,  which  she  oflfered  with  many  apolo- 
gies for  not  having  better. 

Meanwhile,  Tom  sat  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  with 
his  long  legs  stretched  to  the  utmost,  and  his  stolid 
eyes  fixed  on  vacancy,  as  he  puffed  out  volume  after 
volume  of  dense  smoke,  which  gradually  enveloped 
him  as  in  a  cloud.  Ever  and  anon  he  would  pat 
some  question  to  Con,  relating  to  sundry  individuals 
whom  he  had  known  "  in  the  old  country,"  his  voice 
issuing  ever  from  the  midst  of  the  cloud,  in  a  way 
that  made  Con  smile.  At  last.  Con  tired  of  being 
catechized,  and  thought  it  was  time  to  turn  the  ta- 
bles ;  so  setting  down  his  cup  and  saucer  with  a  pre- 
liminary "  hem  !"  he  began  to  examine  the  evidence. 

"  You  have  fine  easy  times  of  it  here,  Tom.  You 
seem  to  bo  a  sort  of  a  walkin'  gentleman.  I  suppose 
you  have  your  fortune  made  long  ago.  They  say 
fortuaes  are  not  bard  to  make  here." 

This  leading  observation  elicited  a  scoffing  laugh 
from  out  the  cloud,  and  a  heavy  sigh  from  the  pale 
hostess,  who  was  endeavoring  to  hush  ber  infant  to 
repose  with  a  mournful  croon. 

"  I  hope  you'll  find  it  easier  to  make  a  fortune 
than  most  folks  do,"  said  Tom,  still  laughing.  "  As 
for  me,  you  know  I  always  scorned  to  tell  a  lie,  and 


I'll  no 
truth ; 
death 
sent  ba 

"An 
quired 
though 

"Ho 
load  sh 
earn  p 
fast  as 
all  free 
other  I 
hardly 
one's  1( 
pay  th( 
That's 
better 
us;  thi 

"Ma 
posedl; 
at  all. 
Irelan(j 
make  t 
that  Vi 
ment  f 

"Go 
gen,  su 
them  n 
if  Pau 


XMIGRAN'T  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


w 


the  tea  which 
^able  near  her 
t  give  a  fig  for 
It  his  pipe,  pre- 
ik  of  Mrs.  Ber- 
ith  many  apolo- 

I  his  chair,  with 
,  and  bis  stolid 
at  volume  after 
lally  enveloped 

he  would  put 
idry  individuals 
intry,"  his  voice 
cloud,  in  a  way 

tired  of  being 
I  to  turn  the  ta- 
ucer  with  a  pre- 
te  the  evidence, 
sre,  Tom.  You 
nan.  I  suppose 
ago.    They  eay 

a  scoffing  laugh 
li  from  the  pale 
ih  her  infant  to 

make  a  fortune 
laughing.  "  As 
to  tell  »  lie,  and 


E'll  not  begin  now,  for  you'd  soon  find  out  the 
truth ;  I  ha'nt  got  one  shilling  between  me  and 
death  but  that  same  two  shilling  piece  that  you 
sent  back  to  keep  the  old  boy  out  of  ray  pocket." 

"And  how  do  you  manage  to  live  at  all?"  in- 
quired Cod,  in  downright  amazement.  "  Why,  I 
thought  you  must  be  well  off  by  this  lime." 

"  IIo !  ho !  how  do  I  manage  !  why  I  help  to  un- 
load ships  and  such  like  jobs,  down  at  the  wharf.  I 
earn  plenty  of  money,  old  fellow ;  but  it  goes  as 
fast  as  I  make  it.  There  are  a  jolly  set  of  fellows, 
all  free-and-easy  like  myself,  and  we  stand  to  each 
other  like  bricks.  As  we  make  we  spend,  and  we 
hardly  ever  know  the  want  of  a  shilling,  for  when 
one's  locker  is  empty,  another's  is  full,  and  the  rich 
pay  the  reckoning  for  the  poor  till  luck  turns  again. 
That's  the  way  we  live,  and  if  you  have  nothing 
better  in  view,  you  may  come  and  take  a  band  with 
us ;  there's  no  scarcity  of  work." 

"Mary  thanks  to  you,"  said  Con,  very  com- 
posedly, "  but  that  sort  of  life  wouldn't  answer  me 
at  all.  I  have  a  wife  and  two  little  ones  at  home  in 
Ireland,  and  I'll  have  to  keep  every  penny  I  can 
make  together  till  I  send  for  them.  I'm  in  hopes 
that  Winny  will  be  able  to  find  out  some  employ- 
ment for  me." 

"  God  mark  you  with  grace.  Con,"  said  Mrs.  Ber- 
gen, suddenly  raising  her  head ;  "  while  you  keep  to 
them  notions  you'll  be  sure  to  do  well.  Och  !  ooh ! 
if  Paul  Bergeu  had  only  shunned  bad  company,  and 


20 


CON    O'REOAN  ;    OR, 


kept  his  earnings  together,  it's  not  aa  we  are  we'd 
be  now,  for  he  made  a  power  o'  money.  Con,  one 
way  an'  another  since  he  came  here.  But  God's 
will  be  done  !  I  suppose  this  was  all  before  me,  or 
I  wouldn't  have  it  to  go  through." 

Before  any  one  could  reply,  the  door  again  opened 
and  Paul  Bergen  made  his  appearance.  He  was  a 
stout,  coarse-featured,  broad-shouldered  man,  with 
a  regular  "  brandy-face,"  and  a  thick  head  of  light- 
colored  hair,  approaching  to  red.  Yet  Paul  had 
been  once  a  good-looking,  rollicking  fellow,  a  favor- 
ite with  all  the  girls,  because  of  his  off-handed  bear- 
ing, backed  by  never-failing  good  humor.  Con  re- 
membered him  well  before  he  left  Ireland,  and  a  deep 
sigh  escaped  from  him  as  he  looked  on  the  sottish, 
ungainly  figure  that  hard  living  had  made  hira. 

Paul's  first  salutation  was  to  Tom  Derragh,  of 
whom  he  affectionately  inquired  "  Where  the  mischief 
he  had  got  such  a  face  ?" 

« I  guess  I  got  it  where  you  got  yours,  my  hearty," 
returned  the  rough  'longshoreman,  with  his  usual 
horse-laugh.  "  What  happened  you  that  you  weren't 
at  the  raffle  at  Pat  Finnerly's  last  night ?' 

"  I  couldn't  be  in  two  places  at  once,  coald  I  ?" 
was  the  quicic  rejoinder.  "There  was  a  dance  at 
Bill  Dempsey's,  here  abroad,  and  Bill  would  never 
forgive  me  if  I  didn't  go.  But,  I  nay,  Nora,"  to  his 
wife,  "who  have  we  here?" — lurning  hrs  eye  for  the 
first  time  on  our  friend  Con,  wlio  began  by  this 
time  to  wish  himeelfsafe  back  in  BallymuUen. 


"It's 

Nora,  I 

duce  C 

to  see 

"Yo 

taking 

one  of 

Nora, 

usual : 

"N. 

would  1 

thougl 

to  coo 

The 

bad  a 

then  I 

the  el 

and  I 

good 

The  I 

learnii 

boy  o 

"D 

the  fa 

"N 

seen  t 

fust  ^ 

usual, 

of  hii 

bring 


EMIGRANT  UVt  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


SI 


aa  we  are  we'd 
noney,  Con,  one 
sre.  But  God's 
Jl  before  me,  or 

or  again  opened 
ince.  He  was  a 
iered  man,  with 
;k  head  of  light- 
Yet  Paul  had 
;  fellow,  a  favor- 
off-handed  bear- 
lumor.  Con  re- 
land,  and  a  deep 
.  on  the  sottish, 
made  hira. 
am  Derragh,  of* 
lere  the  mischief 

Hirs,  my  hearty," 

with  his  usual 

that  yon  weren't 

ightr 

once,  coald  I V 
was  a  dance  at 
5ill  would  never 
ly,  Nora,"  to  his 
g  hra  eye  for  the 
)  began  by  this 
allymnlleo. 


"It's  a'most  time  for  you  to  ask,  Paul,"  said 
Nora,  reproachfully.  She  then  proceeded  to  intro- 
duce Con,  and  to  do  Paul  justice,  he  was  right  glad 
to  see  him. 

"You're  heartily  welcome  here,  Con,"  said  Paul, 
taking  a  seat  near  him,  and  slipping  some  money  to 
one  0?  the  children,  which  was,  however,  noticed  by 
Nora,  who  called  out  with  more  animation  than 

usual : 

"  Never  mind  the  drink,  l»aul,  for  Con  O'Regan 
wouldn't  touch  a  drop  of  it;  send  for  some  meat, 
though,  till  we  get  the  dinntir.    It  won't  take  long 

to  cook." 

The  money  was  given  as  freely  as  though  Paul 
had  a  pocketful  of  that  valuable  commodity,  and 
then  he  asked  where  was  Peter?  Now  Peter  was 
the  eldest  son  of  the  family,  being  next  to  Jane, 
and  his  father  was  not  a  little  proud  of  Peter's 
good  looks,  which  he  inherited  from  his  mother. 
The  boy  was  clever,  too,  and  could  take  up  "  the 
learning,"  whether  right  or  wrong,  as  fast  as  any 
boy  of  his  age. 

"Did  Con  O'Regan  see  Peter  yet?'  demanded 

the  father.  ^ 

"No,  indeed,  then,  Paul,  he  did  not.  I  haven t 
seen  a  sight  of  Peter  myself  since  he  got  his  break- 
fast with  you  this  morning.  He's  on  the  streets,  as 
usual,  God  look  to  him  and  them  that  has  the  rearin' 
of  him!  Oh  Con,  dear,  it's  an  awful  place  this  t^" 
bring  up  children  in— it  is,  indeed  1" 


as 


CON    O'RGGAV  ;    OR, 


"  Hold  your  foolish  tongue,  woman,"  said  her  hns* 
band,  angrily,  "  and  put  that  squalling  brat  to  sleep. 
Stir  yourselves  and  get  us  some  dinner,  and  don't  be 
botherin'  us  with  your  groans  and  your  moans.  Have 
yon  seen  Winny  since  you  came,  Con  ?" 

Con  answered  in  the  affirmative,  whereupon  Tom 
grinned  a  dubious  smile.  "  Winny's  one  of  the 
saints,  I'm  thinking,  Con.  She's  as  modest  as  a  nun, 
and  wouldn't  look  a  fellow  in  the  face  on  any  ac- 
count. They  say  she's  gatheriug  money  fast ;  is  it 
true,  Con  ?" 

The  subject  was  by  no  means  pleasing  to  Con, 
who  gave  an  evasive  answer,  and  then  put  some 
question  to  Paul  relating  to  some  other  acquaint- 
ances of  theirs  who  had  emigrated  during  the  pre- 
vious year.  Paul  gave  a  history  of  each  person,  as 
far  as  he  knew,  with  occasional  episodes  from  Tom, 
which  were  in  general  anything  but  satisfactory. 
By  this  time  Jane  had  some  ham  and  eggs  on  the 
table,  with  some  bread  and  potatoes,  and  Paul 
would  not  consent  to  eat  a  morsel,  unless  both  Tom 
and  Con  would  "  sit  over  and  have  share  of  what 
was  going  on."  In  vain  did  Con  declare  that  ho 
had  just  been  eating  and  drinking — Paul  cut  him 
dhort  with : 

"  Don't  be  botherin'  us  now  with  your  excuses. 
I  suppose  you  think  the  victuals  are  so  Stinted  that 
you'll  leave  somebody  short.  But  you  needn't  fear," 
he  added  bitterly ;  "  there's  more  in  it  than  we'll  all 
eat.    To  be  sure  things  are  not  so  plentiful  here  as 


wo  all 

Ballyr 

and  en 

no,  no 

would 

what 

don't 

an'  fal 

So' 

the  se 

hospii 

a  pals 

Paul 

fathei 

into 

migh' 

the  e: 

the  p 

Nc 

(fear! 

she  1 

dinn< 

Af 

ingC 

come 

imm< 

out 

she  ( 


in,"  said  her  hns- 
ing  brat  to  sleep, 
ner,  and  don't  be 
)ar  moans.  Have 
on?" 

whereupon  Tom 
ny's  one  of  the 
modest  as  a  nun, 
!  face  on  any  ac- 
tnoney  fast ;  is  it 

jleasing  to  Con, 
then  put  some 
3  other  acquaint- 
I  during  the  pre- 
f  each  person,  as 
sodes  from  Tom, 
but  satisfactory, 
and  eggs  on  the 
atoes,  and  Paul 
nnless  both  Tom 
■e  share  of  what 
declare  that  ho 
; — Paul  cut  him 

Lh  your  excuses. 
e  so  ^tinted  that 
'ou  needn't  fear," 
a  it  than  we'll  all 
plentiful  hero  as 


KJIIORANT  MFR  IN  THE  NBW  WORLD.  «■ 

we  all  remember  them  in  the  farmers'  houses  about 
BallymuUen  ;  we  haven't  the  big  fat  pots  of  bacon 
and  cabbage,— or  broth  that  a  spoon  would  stand  in ; 
no,  nor  the  fine  baskets  of  laughing  potatoes  that 
would  do  a  man's  heart  good  to  look  at  them  ;  but 
what  there  is,  you're  welcome  to,  and  so,  if  you 
don't  want  to  insult  me,  you'll  just  sit  over  at  onst 

an'  fall  to." 

So  Con  was  obliged  to  give  in,  for  fear  of  hurting 
the  sensitive  feelings  of  poor  Paul,  whose  sense  of 
hospitality  was  just  aa  strong  as  though  he  lived  in 
a  palace,  and  had  sumptuous  fare  to  offer.  Poor 
Paul  Bergen !  had  he  never  left  the  shelter  of  bi« 
father's  humble  cabin,  or,  leaving  it,  had  he  fallen 
into  a  more  genial  track  west  of  the  Atlantic,  he 
might  have  lived  a  happier  and  more  useful  life  in 
the" exercise  of  those  old  home-virtues  which  make 
the  peasant's  cot  in  Ireland  a  palace  of  content. 

Nora  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  taste  a  morsel 
(fearful,  perhaps,  of  leaving  the  strangers  short); 
she  had  taken  a  cup  of  lea,  she  said,  and  that  was 
dinner  enough  for  her. 

After  dinner,  Paul  hurried  off  to  his  work,  charg- 
ing Con  not  to  stir  from  where  he  was  till  he  should 
come  back,  and  promising  Nora  to  send  the  coal 
immediately,  which  he  punctually  did.  Tom  went 
out  with  him,  to  Nora's  evident  displeasure,  but 
she  did  not  dare  to  make  any  objection. 


t4 


OON  o'keoan  :  OR. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Thk  long  hours  of  the  afternoon  passed  >/;i»vily 
•way,  Con  fearing  to  lose  his  way  if  he  vevjy!>.\.u  out, 
although  Mrs.  Bergen  offered  to  send  Palsey  with 
him,  "  and  I'll  go  bail  you'll  not  go  astray  while  you'll 
have  him  with  you,"  said  the  fond  mother,  "  for 
though  he's  not  six  years  old  till  next  Christmas, 
there's  hardly  a  corner  round  here  bat  what  he 
knows.  Indeed,  they  all  know  the  corners  too  well," 
she  added,  mournfully,  "  for  they're  on  the  street 
most  o'  their  time.  Only  the  weather  is  against 
them  to-day,  we  wouldn't  have  so  many  o'  them  in 
the  house.  I  do  what  I  can  to  keep  them  in,  but 
they  go  in  spite  o'  me  when  they  take  the  notion." 

"  It's  too  bad," observed  Con, "  too  bad,  altogether. 
Why,  if  them  chaps  were  in  Ireland,  their  fathers  or 
mothers  would  break  every  bone  in  their  body  sooner 
than  let  them  run  on  the  streets." 

"  Ha !  ha !"  cried  Patsey  from  his  station  behind 
the  stove,  "  then  I'm  real  glad  I  wasn't  born  in  Ire- 
land. Boys  a'nt  treated  so  here.  There  a'nt  any 
whipping  allowed  here,  you  know,  and  I  often  heard 
boys  say  that  if  Irish  ""  •ddi'>3  had  their  way  they'd 
pive  their  childrea  av>  iwl  us'»gr     There  now,  Jim,' 


to  his  lit 

iu  Irclai 

just  as 

"  Hol( 

"  yc"!  m 

W>.Jg." 

"Yes 

juvenile 

the  man 

my  bou 

attitude 

notwith 

"We 

mother 

silent  8 

nothing 

there  a' 

the  Btrj 

that. 

Bergen 

head?' 

"No 

"An 

parenti 

"W( 

she  sp( 

that's 

times  \ 

out  of 

people 


WIIQIUNT  I,  FK  IX  THE  NEW  WORID. 


25 


passed  >/;t»vi1y 
le  vev)^!».  wu  out, 
nd  Patsey  with 
tray  while  you'll 
1  mother,  "  for 
next  Christmas, 
a  bat  what  he 
►rnerstoo  well," 
3  on  the  street 
,ther  is  against 
nany  o'  them  in 
jp  them  in,  but 
le  the  notion." 
bad,  altogether. 

their  fathers  or 
leir  body  sooner 

3  station  behind 
n't  born  in  Ire- 
There  a*nt  any 
id  I  often  heard 
ieir  way  they'd 
icre  now,  Jim,' 


to  his  little  brother,  "  do  you  hear  that  ?  If  wo  were 
iu  Ireland,  they'd  break  our  bones  if  wo  didn't  do 
just  as  they'd  want  ua  to." 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Patsey,"  said  his  mother, 
"yen  mustn't  talk  so;  you  don't  know  what  you're 

W)  .ag." 

"  Yes,  but  I  do,  though,"  returned  the  precocious 
juvenile;  "I've  got  ears,  hain't  I?  and  I  heard  what 
the  man  said.  I  wish  any  body  would  try  to  break 
my  bones,  I  do !"  and  he  aasumed  such  a  threatening 
alliLude  that  Con  could  not  help  laughing  heartily, 
notwithstanding  his  unqualified  disgust. 

«'  Well,  after  that,  Mrs.  Bergen,"  said  he,  while  the 
mother  made  sundry  attempts  to  coerce  the  boy  into 
silent  subjection,  "  after  that,  ma'am,  I'll  wonder  at 
nothing.  If  I  saw  the  big  Church  or  Meetin'-house 
there  abroad  left  sitlin'  on  its  head  iu  the  middle  of 
the  street,  it  wouldn't  give  me  the  least  surprise  after 
that.  Now,  just  answer  me  one  question,  Mrs. 
Bergen!— is  there  anything  wrong  with  that  child's 
head?' 

"  Not  that  I  know  of." 

"And  is  that  the  way  that  children  talk  up  to  their 
parents  here  ?" 

"  Well,  sometimes,"  said  Mrs.  Bergen,  blushing  as 
she  spoke.  "  There's  little  respect  here  for  parents ; 
that's  a  fact.  Con,  and  I  declare  to  you  there  are 
times  when  I'd  give  the  world  to  be  dead  and  buried, 
out  of  the  hearin'  and  seeiu'  of  my  own  and  other 
people's  children.    Ooh !  och !  if  we  were  only  a 


2G 


CON  o'reoan  ;  OR, 


thouBand  miles  away  from  this  unlucky  plase,  in 
Bome  town  or  country  where  we  could  brin,f»  up  our 
children  in  the  fear  and  lave  of  God,  as  children  are 
brought  up  in  poor  old  Ireland,  and  where  Paul 
would  be  away  from  the  bad  company  and  the  cursed 
taverns,  I  think  I  could  die  with  a  joyful  heart. 
But  no,  no,  no'' — and  at  every  -word  her  voice  sank 
lower  and  lower  till  it  reached  a  hoare-j  whisper — 
•'  no,  no,  we're  bound  hand  and  foot ;  we  haven't  the 
means  now  to  go  anywhere,  and  God  look  down  on 
us  this  sorrowful  day  !" 

Con  hardly  knew  what  to  say,  and  yet  he  wished 
to  administer  consolation  to  that  breakiag  heart. 
But  stranger  as  he  was,  and  utterly  ignorant  of  Paul 
Bergen's  affairs,  how  could  he  pretend  to  hold  out 
hopes  ?  Whilst  these  thoughte  were  passing  through 
bis  mind,  a  light  tap  came  to  the  door,  and  the  next 
moment  a  soft  arm  was  round  his  neck,  and  the  gen- 
tle voice  of  Winny  spoke  at  his  side. 

"Don't  be  frightened.  Con,  it's  only  me.  I'm 
here  far  sooner  than  I  expected,  for  when  the  mas- 
ter come  to  his  dinner,  I  told  him  about  you,  and 
he  said  he  just  wanted  a  stout,  active  man,  for  a 
porter  at  the  present  time,  and  that  he  would  give 
you  a  trial.  So  you  see  God  is  good  to  us — as  ho 
ftlwaj's  is,"  she  added,  feelingly.  "  Come,  Con,  take 
your  hai  and  we'll  go  right  oft'  to  the  store." 
'  The  store,  Winny,  what  is  that  ?" 
"  Oh  I  I  forgot,"  said  Winny,  with  a  smile,  "  that 
they  were  all  shojps  at  home.    But  there's  no  Buoh 


thing  as 
their  tra 
how  hav 
added  V 
Jim's  ha 
morning 
side  ?" 

"  Ver; 
for  the 
often,  t! 
decent, 
such  ind 
don't  bl 
is  good, 
harm's  \ 
credit  U 

Winn 
left  the 
deeply 
walked 
side,  til 
from  a 
how  ho 

"To 
it  at  all. 
Tm  hon 
for  me. 
me  eno 

"  IIu 
laughin 


KUIGRAN'T  I.TFK  IS  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


21 


ilucky  plase,  in 
lid  biini;;  up  our 
,  as  children  are 
ind  where  Paul 
y  and  the  cursed 
a  joyful  heart. 
i  her  voice  sank 
loarsT  whisper — 
;  we  haven't  the 
>d  look  down  on 

d  yet  he  wished 
breaking  heart, 
ignorant  of  Paul 
lend  to  hold  out 
5  passing  through 
>or,  and  the  next 
eck,  and  the  gen- 
e. 

8  only  tne.  I'm 
r  when  the  mas- 
1  about  you,  and 
dive  man,  for  a 
nt  he  would  givo 
ood  to  us — aa  he 
Come,  Con,  take 
Lhe  store." 
I?" 

th  a  smile,  "  that 
;  there's  no  Buoh 


thing  as  shops  here.  Con,  except  where  men  work  at 
their  trades;  it's  stores  they  call  the  shops.  And 
how  have  you  been  since  I  saw  you,  Mrs.  Bergen  ?" 
added  Winny,  as  she  slipped  half  a  dollar  into  little 
Jim's  hand;"  I  had  hardly  time  to  say  a  word  this 
morning  when  I  was  here.  How  is  the  pain  in  the 
Hide  ?" 

"  Very  little  better,  Winny,  many  thanks  to  you 
for  the  asking.  You  don't  come  to  see  us  very 
often,  though,— but,  indeed,  it's  hard  to  expect  a 
decent,  quiet  girl  like  you  to  go  where  you'  11  meet 
such  indifferent  company  as  Paul  brings  here.  So  I 
don't  blame  you,  Winny  dear,  for  I  know  your  heart 
is  good,  and  I'd  be  sorry  to  see  you  put  yourself  in 
harm's  way  on  my  account.  And  your  brother's  a 
credit  to  you,  Winny,  long  may  he  be  so  1" 

Winny  hastily  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Bergen,  and 
left  the  house  in  silence,  fearful  to  let  her  see  how 
deeply  she  felt  for  her  situation.  Con  and  she 
walked  on  for  some  time  without  a  word  on  either 
Bide,  till  at  length  Winny  started,  as  if  awaking 
from  a  trance,  and  asked  her  brother  with  a  smile 
how  ho  liked  America,  as  far  as  he  had  seen  it  ? 

«*  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Winny,  dear,  I  don't  like 
it  at  all.  If  that's  the  way  men  live  here,  the  sooner 
Vm  home  again  in  Ballymullen,  it'll  be  all  the  better 
for  me.  Paul  Bergen  and  Tom  Derragh  have  given 
me  enough  of  America !" 

"  Hut,  tut,  Con  !  don't  be  foolish,"  said  Winny, 
laughing ;  "  you'll  see  plenty  cf  our  own  country 


18 


CON    O'RRnAN  :    OR, 


peopU  here  living  as  well  as  heart  could  v/hh.  Paul 
Bergen  and  Tom  Derragh  are  bad  specimens,  suro 
enough,  but  don't  let  them  frighten  you  out  of  your 
Benees." 

"  But  what  evil  spirit  gets  into  them,"  persisted 
Con,  "  tliat  they  can't  keep  from  tippling,  an'  theui 
left)  home  to  make  the  better  of  it  in  a  strange 
country  ?  Just  look  at  that  decent  woman  of  Paul 
Bergen'd,  siltin'  there  perishiu'  with  cold  half  of  her 
time,  and  lookiu'  the  picture  of  starvation,  au'  him- 
self with  a  face  as  red  as  a  turkey's  head.  And 
such  a  line  family  as  they  have  of  clean,  likely  chil- 
dren— but  sure  they're  a-rearlng  up  for  the  devil — 
God  forgive  me  for  sayiu'  so !  And  then,  Tom  Der- 
ragh— to  see  a  fine  able  young  man  like  him  with 
out  a  shilling  hardly  to  jingle  on  a  tombstone,  after 
being  ten  years  in  America  1" 

"  Well,  well,  Con,  never  mind,"  said  his  sister, 
coaxingly,  "  you  and  I  will  have  a  different  story  to 
tell  a  few  years  hence,  with  the  help  of  God  I  I've 
a  thousand  questions  to  ask  you,  but  we  haven't 
time  now,  for  here's  Mr.  Coulter's  store.  Now 
mind  your  p's  and  y's,  Con, — the  master  is  a  very 
good  sort  of  a  man,  if  he  finds  people  to  his  liking. 
He'll  be  at  you  at  first  about  your  religion,  but 
never  mind  him,  his  bark  ia  worse  than  his  bile. 
Just  keep  your  temper,  and  let  him  talk  away,  afier 
a  while  he'll  get  tired  of  it,  when  he  sees  he  can 
make  nothing  of  you,  and  he'll  think  all  the  more  of 
you  in  the  end  for  being  steadfast  in  your  own  re- 


ligion. 

though  1 
in  now, 
a   man. 
there's  i 

"God 
voice,  a 
range  tl 
it  dowr 
over  hii 
ded  app 

Mr.  C 
tached  ' 
cntrauo( 
his  banc 
spectac! 

"So  1 
gentlem 
friend  C 

"  Yes 
anythinj 
thankfu 
time  be 
aii:jvver 

"  Hui 
Mr.  Coi 
in  Engl 
nacular 
look  at 
fruiting 


uld  wiHh.  Paul 
Bpeciinens,  suro 
you  out  of  your 

[letn,"  persisted 
ipling,  an'  tbeiii 
it  in  a  Blrange 
woman  of  Paul 
cold  half  of  her 
vation,  au'  him- 
y's  hend.  And 
ean,  likely  chil- 

for  the  devil — 
then,  Tom  Der- 

like  him  with 
ombHlone,  after 

said  bis  sister, 
liferent  story  to 
of  God!  I've 
but  we  haven't 
'fl  store.  Now 
laster  is  a  very 
lie  to  his  liking, 
ir  religion,  bub 
)  than  bis  bite, 
talk  away,  after 
he  sees  he  can 
all  the  more  of 
Q  your  own  re« 


EUiaRANT  UFR  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


29 


ligion.  He's  a  real,  good-hearted  man  at  bottom, 
though  he  does  seem  a  little  rough  at  times.  Come 
in  now,  in  God's  name,  and  hold  up  your  head  liko 
a  man.  Don't  bo  down-hearted,  Con  dear,  for 
there's  no  fuar  but  you'll  do  well." 

"  God  send  it,  Winny  !"  said  her  brother,  in  a  low 
voice,  as  Winny  stopped  him  at  the  door  to  ar- 
range the  collar  of  his  coat  and  brush  the  back  of 
it  down  with  her  hand.  Having  glanced  rapidly- 
over  his  costume  to  see  that  all  was  right,  hhe  nod- 
ded approvingly,  a  id  in  they  went. 

Mr.  Coulter  was  behind  his  desk  in  the  office  at.- 
tached  to  his  wholesale  Avarehouse,  but  on  Winny'a 
entrance  with  her  brother,  he  came  forward,  wJth 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  a  pair  of  gold-mounted 
spectacles  thrown  up  on  his  forehead. 

"  So  this  is  your  biolher,  Winny  ? '  said  the  old 
gentleman,  fixing  a  keen  and  practised  eye  on  our 
friend  Con. 

"  Yes,  sir,  this  is  ray  brother,  and  if  you  can  find 
anything  for  him  to  do,  both  him  and  I  will  bo  very 
titankful.  Being  a  stranger  here,  he  might  be  some 
time  before  he'd  get  a  situation,  and  that  wouldn't 
answer  him  at  all." 

"  Hump !  his  funds  are  rather  low,  I  presume  1" 
Ml'.  Coulter  never  guessed.  He  had  been  educated 
ill  England,  and  had  a  great  contempt  for  all  ver- 
nacular corruptions  of  his  mother  tongue.  Another 
look  at  Con,  who  stood  with  his  hat  in  his  liaod 
waiting  for  any  direct  address  to  himself. 


80 


CON    0  REGAN  :    OR, 


•*  You're  only  just  come  out,  young  man !"  said  the 
merchant  at  length. 

"  Just  landed  yesterday,  sir.'' 

"  You  seem  a  fine  hearty  young  fellow.  What 
can  you  do  ?" 

"  Farming,  sir,  was  what  I  was  best  used  to,  but 
I'm  afeard  there's  little  of  that  to  be  done  here,  so 
I'm  willing  to  try  my  hand  at  anything  else." 

"  So  far  good,  and  what  about  religion  ?" — tliis 
was  said  with  a  kind  of  smile  that  might  be  inter- 
preted in  various  ways — "  1  suppose  you're  a  Papist, 
are  you?" 

«'  I'm  a  Catholic,  sir." 

"  I  thought  as  much.  Humph !"  Here  another 
pause,  during  which  Mr.  Coulter  put  his  hands  be- 
hind his  back,  and  walked  a  few  paces  to  and  fro. 
Con  ventured  to  break  silence  with  : 

"  But  sure,  sir,  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  my 
work.  If  you'll  give  me  a  trial  I  hope  you'll  not 
have  reason  to  be  dissatisfied,  for  I'll  do  my  best, 
and  wo  have  a  saying,  sir,  where  I  come  from,  that 
best  can  do  no  more." 

"  Yes,  but  I  do  not  like  to  have  Catholics  in  my 
employment, — you  needn't  smile,  Winny,  you  know 
I  speak  the  truth,  although  yoii'vo  been  in  my  family 
so  many  years — the  fact  is,  young  man,  I  have  part- 
ners hero  who  will  hardly  believe  that  Irishmen,  and 
especially  Irish  Papists,  can  be  trusted  to  any  ex- 
tent. Whether  their  views  are  correct  is  not  the 
question,  but  these  gentlemen  keep  me  in  h(jt  water 


while 

They 

glassei 

Now, 

precio 

than 

the  fi 

your  1 

"Y 

"\\ 

pleasi 

cross 

pie  jv 

their 

warn 

leave 

to  be 

an  Iri 

"V 

I'll  d< 

the  o 

warn 

of  an 

Th 

smile 

"He 

took 

told 

if  he 

♦'I 


man !"  said  the 


fellow.    What 

St  tised  to,  but 
»e  done  here,  so 
ng  else." 
•eligion  ?" — this 
might  be  inter- 
you're  a  Papist, 


Here  another 
t  his  hands  be- 
ces  to  and  fro. 

to  do  with  ray 
lope  you'll  not 
['11  do  my  best, 
jome  from,  that 

I!atholic8  in  my 
nny,  you  know 
en  in  my  family 
in,  I  have  i)art- 
tt  Irishmen,  and 
3ted  to  any  ex- 
rect  is  not  the 
me  in  hot  water 


EMIGBAXT  LIFR  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


81 


while  ever  there  is  one  of  you  about  the  concern. 
They  always  see  your  faults  through  magnifying 
glasses,  and  are  slow  to  acknowledge  your  merits 
Now,  although  I  am  the  head  of  the  house,  I  like  a 
precious  sight  better  to  have  things  go  on  quietly 
than  to  be  continually  exercising  my  authority  in 
the  firm.  I  hate  contentions,  young  man— what's 
your  name — O'liegan,  of  course  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  Con  6'Regan,"  with  a  low  bow. 
"  Well,  Con,  are  you  willing  to  run  the  risk  of 
pleasing  my  partners  ?  for  myself,  although  I  am  a 
cross  old  fellow  at  times,  I  am  willing  to  treat  peo- 
ple just  as  they  deserve,  without  much  regard  to 
their  creed  or  country.  But  if  you  come  here,  I 
warn  you  in  time  what  you  have  to  expect.  If  yoa 
leave  yourself  open  in  any  way  to  censure,  I  am  sure 
to  be  blamed  for  having  taken  it  upon  me  to  employ 
an  Irish  Papist." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  can  only  say,  as  I  said  before,  that 
I'll  do  my  bf'f^.  and  ii'  I  don't  give  satisfaction  to 
the  other  geiitlemen,  you  can  send  me  off  at  a  day's 
warning,  for,  God  knows,  I  wouldn't  be  the  cause 
of  any  dissension— no,  not  for  a  mint  of  money." 

The  old  gentleman  rubbed  his  hands  briskly, 
smiled  and  nodded  to  Winny,  as  much  as  to  say  : 
"  He'll  pass  muster,  Winny— I  know  he  will !"  then 
took  his  station  once  more  behind  the  desk,  and 
told  Con  he  might  come  to  the  store  next  morning, 
if  ho  ohose. 
♦'  I  will  then,  sir,  and  thank  you  kindly.    I  don'l 


m 


want  to  lose  one  day,  if  God  leaves  me  iny 
health." 

"  Very  well,  Con,  we'll  begin  with  six  dollars  a 
week,  and  .you'll  make  yourself  generally  useful  at 
any  branch  of  the  business." 

"Anything — anything  you  please,  sir — God  bless 
you,  sir !" 

"  I  say,  Winny,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  calling  after 
them  to  the  door,  "you'll  just  take  your  brother 
home  and  give  him  a  comfortable  supper.  Aud,  do 
you  hear,  Winny,  see  that  he  don't  take  up  his  lodg- 
ing in  any  of  those  vile,  low  places,  where  he  would 
be  sure  to  meet  with  bad  company.  Take  him  to 
Borne  quiet,  decent  boarding-house." 

"  I  will,  sir,  thank  you,"  said  Winny,  unable  to 
say  more  in  the  fulness  of  her  gratitude. 

"  Long  life  to  your  honor,"  cried  Con,  as  they 
bowed  themselves  out;  "  may  you  never  know  the 
want  of  a  friend — an'  please  God  you  never  will ! 
Why,  Winny,"  said  he,  when  they  had  Reached  the 
street,  "  that's  a  mighty  fine  old  gentleman — not  the 
least  cross !" 

"  Oh,  well,  he  seems  to  have  taken  a  likmg  to 
you.  Con,  thanks  be  to  God  for  that  same,  but,  at 
any  rale,  he's  very  friendly  aud  good-natured.  Tlie 
mistress  is  not  quite  so  good  as  he  is,  but  you'll 
have  nothing  to  do  with  her.  So  much  the  better 
for  you." 

"  But,  Winny,  what  fine  wages  he's  giving  me  I" 
■aid  Cod,  pursuiug  the  train  of  his  own  pleasant 


thought 
and  the 

"Not 
with  a 
good  wl 
them  all 
mannget 
now,  hei 
door,  wt 
lighting 
went  up 
sent  her 
While  si 
neat,  ooi 
tion  not 
were  ma 
to  him. 

Mrs.  C 
safe  arrii 
nified  he 
with.  T 
poor  Wii 
ticular  ti 
poiir  itst 
seen.  B 
ground, 
lady  was 
intention 
and    app 


caves   me   my 

1  six  dollars  a 
jrally  useful  ai, 

sir — God  bk'ss 

r,  caU'mg  after 
your  brother 
iper.  Aud,  do 
ke  up  bis  lodg- 
rhere  be  would 
Take  bim  to 

nny,  unable  to 

tde. 

i  Con,  aa  they 

iver  know  thu 

au  never  will ! 

id  /cached  the 

emau — not  the 

m  a  liking  to 
p  same,  but,  at 
naturcd.  Tliu 
i  is,  but  you'll 
ich  the  better 

'»  giving  me !" 
own  pleasant 


CMIORAKT  MFR  IN  THE  NKW  WORLD. 


88 


thonghts.    «'  Why,  I'll  be  able  to  send  for  Biddy 
and  the  children  in  less  than  no  time." 

"  Not  so  soon  as  you  think,  Con,"  said  Winny, 
with  a  smile  full  of  affection,  "  it  will  take  you  a 
good  while  to  put  as  much  together  as  will  bring 
them  all  out.  But,  after  all,  with  industry  and  good 
manftgement,  the  time  will  soon  come  round.  Hush, 
now,  here's  the  house."  They  went  in  by  the  area 
door,  which  Winny  opened  with  a  latch-key.  After 
lighting  the  fire  and  setting  on  the  tea-kettle^  she 
went  up  to  tell  her  mistress  that  Mr.  Coulter  had 
sent  her  brother  home  with  her  to  get  his  supper. 
While  she  was  gone.  Con  sat  looking  around  at  the 
neat,  comfortable  kitchen  with  feelings  of  admira- 
tion not  unmixed  with  simple  curiosity,  for  there 
were  many  things  there  whose  use  was  a  mystery 
to  him. 

Mrs.  Coulter  was  mightily  pleased  to  hear  of  the 
safe  arrival  of  Winny's  brother,  and  graciously  sig- 
nified her  intention  to  go  down  and  see  him  forth- 
with. This  was  a  piece  of  condescension  which 
poor  Winny  could  well  have  excused  at  that  par- 
ticular time,  when  her  heart  was  full,  and  longed  to 
poiir  itsfcif  out  to  that  beloved  brother  so  long  un- 
seen. But,  of  course,  this  was  kept  in  the  back- 
ground, and  Winny  thanked  her  mistress.  That 
lady  was  not  slow  in  aooomplishing  her  benevolent 
Intention.  Down  she  sailed  to  the  lower  regions, 
and    appeared    before    the    visual    orbs    of    Con 


u 


CON  o'beoan  ;  OB, 


O'llegan,  filim,  and  tall,  and  Btately,  and  looking  as 
like  mummy  as  living  woman  might. 

Con  rose  and  greeted  the  lady  with  his  best  bow, 
and  then  remained  standing  until  Mrs.  Coulter 
politely  requested  him  to  be  seated,  she  herself  tak- 
ing her  stand  in  front  of  the  brightly-polished 
stove,  through  the  grate  of  which  a  clear  coal  fire 
was  seen  sending  up  its  flame  to  the  bottom  of  the 
kettle  aforesaid.  Winny  went  to  work  at  once  to 
make  some  hot  rolls  for  tea. 

"  And  so  you've  engaged  with  Mr.  Coulter,  Con, 
(for  such,  I  find,  is  your  name)  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I'm  proud  to  say  I  have." 
«'  Well,  now,  I  hope  you'll  try  and  keep  your 
situation.     It  is  a  very  rare  thing,  indeed,  for  Irish- 
men to  do  well  here,  and  on  Winny's  account,  I 
should  liko  you  to  do  well.     Winny  is  a  good  girl, 
although  she  is  Irish.     And  now  let  me  give  you  a 
piece  of  advice.    My  husband,  Mr.  Coulter,  is  a  very 
good  sort  of  man— in  his  own  way— but  you  will 
Bometimea  find  him.rough  and  hot-tempered.    Poor 
man  !   he  means  well,  I    believe,   but  he   ia    not 
blessed  with  vital  rel\;ion— that  explains  all,  you 

see." 

It  did  nut  explain  it  to  Con's  satisfaction,  inasmuch 
as  he  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  vital  reli- 
gion, but  he  continued  to  listen  attentively  in  hopes 
of  some  more  tangible  explanation  of  what  the  good 
l»dy  was  driving  at. 

"  Thia  hint  may  serve  you  in  good  stead,"  went  oo 


Mrs.  C( 
Bufficieo 
Holy  \N 
benight 
to  arou 
band's  i 
duct.  J 
friend,  1 
garment 
more  be 
roy  are 
minds  o 
is,  even 
will  supj 

"  In  a' 

"Wei 
oommod 

"Oh, 
"  ueithei 
ing  here 
be  askin 
house, 
depeudii 
out  here 
and  plea 

"  Verj 
him  afte 
seasonal 

Atthi 
think,  A) 


nd  looking  aa 

i  1)18  best  bow, 
Mra.  Coulter 
ihe  herself  tak- 
ightly-polished 
clear  coal  fire 
bottom  of  tbo 
)rk  at  once  to 

•.  Coulter,  Con, 

have." 

and  keep  your 
ideed,  for  Irish- 
my's  account,  I 
y  is  a  good  girl, 

me  give  you  a 
Soulier,  is  a  very 
Y — but  you  will 
empered.    Poor 

but  he  is  not 
explains  all,  you 

faction,  inasmuch 
ling  as  vital  reli- 
entively  in  hopes 
of  what  the  good 

i  stead,"  went  oo 


KMIORAN'T  LIFE         THE  NEW  WORLD. 


85 


Mrs.  Coulter,  "  seeing  that  '  a  word  to  the  wise  is 
sufficient  for  them,'  but,  alas !  I  fear  the  language  of 
Holy  Writ  is  new  to  your  ears,  coming  from  poor 
benighted  Ireland.  However,  you  will  endeavor  not 
to  arouse  the  old  unsubdued  Adam  in  my  poor  hus- 
band's nature  by  any  thoughtless  or  unseemly  con- 
duct. And  now  that  I  am  admonishing  you  as  t 
friend,  I  would  advise  you  to  lay  aside  those  shaggy 
garments  of  yours,  and  provide  yourself  with  clothes 
more  becoming  a  civilized  land.  Frieze  and  cordu- 
roy are  unfortunately  associated  with  Popery  in  the 
minds  of  Christian  people,  and  as  your  outward  man 
is,  even  so  will  you  be  judged.  Winny,  how  soon 
will  supper  be  ready  ?" 

"  In  about  1  alf  an  hour,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  Con,"  said  Mrs.  Coulter,  "  we  have  no  ac- 
commodation for  you  here,  I  regret  to  say." 

"Oh,  ma'am,"  said  Winny,  hastily  interposing, 
"  neither  my  brother  nor  I  ever  dreamed  of  his  stay- 
ing here.  As  soon  as  I  wash  up  the  tea-things  1 11 
be  asking  leave  to  go  and  settle  him  in  a  boarding- 
house.  Oh  dear,  no!  ma'am,  he  don't  want  to  be 
depending  on  any  one,  not  even  on  me.  He  camo 
out  here  to  earn  a  living  for  himself  and  his  family, 
and  please  God  he'll  be  able  to  do  it." 

"Very  good,  indeed,  Winny;  you  may  go  with 
him  after  tea,  of  course,  but  sec  that  you  return  in 
seasonable  time." 

At  this  Winny  was  somewhat  -tsttled.  "I  don't 
think,  Mrs.  Coulter,  you  ever  kneir  me  to  spend  au 


M;  CON  o'bfgas  ;  OK, 

evening  out  of  your  bouse  since  I  came  to  it,  I 
thank  God  I  have  as  much  regard  for  my  character 
M  any  one  else.  Still  Im  thankful  to  you  for  your 
good  advice,  whether  I  need  it  or  not." 

"Mrs.  Coulter  then  sailed  out  of  the  kitchen  and 
up  stairs  again,  leaving  iho  brother  and  sister  at  last 
to  the  free  interchange  of  their  feelings  and  affections. 
«  And  now  that  we  can  speak  a  word  between  our- 
selves," said  Winny,  "how  are  you  off  for  money, 
Con  ?— have  you  any  at  all  left  ?" 

"  Well,  not  much ;  but  still  I'm  not  entirely  run 
out.  We  had  a  good  deal  of  expense,  you  see,  with 
doctors  an'  one  thing  an'  another,  so  that  I  had  just 
enough  to  bury  my  mother  decently,  an'  thankful  I 
was  for  thnt  same." 

"  What  did  you  say?"  cried  Winny,  dropping  the 
dish-towel  from  her  hand,  and  sinking  on  a  seat  pale 
as  death.    "  Is  my  mother  dead,  then  ?" 

Con  was  thunderstruck.  He  had  quite  forgotten 
that  Winny  was  as  yet  ignorant  of  her  mother'^ 
death,  and  he  had  alluded  to  it  inadvertently.  But 
it  was  too  late  to  prevaricate  now.  The  mournful 
tidings  must  come  out,  and  he  addressed  himself  to 
the  task  with  desperate  resolution. 

"  She  is,  Winny  dear,  may  the  Lord  in  Heaven 
have  mercy  on  her  soul !  I  didn't  mean  to  tell  you 
•o  suddenly,  Winny,  but  it  can't  be  helped  now,  and, 
beside*,  you'd  have  to  know  it  some  time.  Three 
month*  ago,  when  the  long  summer  days  were  in  it 
Ml'  the  grass  was  green,  we  laid  her  in  my  father*« 


grave 
have  n 
world, 
ger,  or 
either, 
to  prep 
comfor 
for  her 
have  d( 
giving 
that  sh 
dream 
eased  1 
Blesaec 
her  not 
protect 
now,  \' 
I'm  gla 
heart, 
what  t< 
our  mo 
— Bure 
"Ob 
wouldi 
mothei 
when  I 
all  be 
comeo 
any  W( 
hard  ei 


KUIGRANT  I.IFK  I.V  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


sr 


ame  to  it.    I 

■  my  character 

you  for  your 

e  kitchen  and 
d  eister  at  laat 
and  affections. 
i  between  our- 
off  for  money, 

ot  entirely  rnn 
I,  you  eee,  with 
that  I  had  just 
,  an'  thankful  I 

r,  dropping  the 
7  on  a  seat  pale 

quite  forgotten 
if  her  mother'b 
vertently.  But 
The  mournful 
ssed  himself  to 

jord  in  Heaven 
nean  to  tell  you 
lelped  now,  and, 
ae  time.  Three 
days  were  in  it 
Br  in  my  father** 


grave  back  of  Kilshannon  Chapel.  But  sure  we 
have  no  reason  to  repine,  for  she's  gone  to  a  better 
world,  Winny,  where  she'll  never  feel  cold  or  hun- 
ger, or  sorrow  any  more.  She  wasn't  taken  short, 
either,  thanks  be  to  God  I — she  had  a  reasonable  time 
to  prepare,  and  your  money  provided  her  with  eve  "y 
comfort  in  her  last  sickness.  Biddy  did  all  she  could 
for  her ;  if  she  had  been  her  own  child  she  couldn't 
have  done  more.  She  died  as  easy  as  a  child,  after 
giving  us  all  her  blessing.  Her  only  trouble  was 
that  she  couldn't  get  a  sight  of  you,  but  she  had  a 
dream  about  you  the  very  night  before  she  died  that 
eased  her  mind  all  of  a  sudden.  She  thought  the 
Blessed  Virgin  came  to  her  in  her  sleep,  and  told 
her  not  to  fret  about  you,  that  you  were  under  her 
protection,  and  that  there  was  no  fear  of  you.  There 
now,  Winny  dear — don't  cry  that  way — and  still 
I'm  glad  to  see  you  cryin',  for  it'll  relieve  your  poor 
heart.  You  looked  so  wild  at  first  that  I  didn't  know 
what  to  do  or  say.  Sure  you  wouldn't  wish  to  have 
our  mother  back  again  in  this  troublesome  world  ? 
— »ure  you  wouldn't  now,  Winny  ?" 

"  Oik  no,  no,"  said  the  heart-struck  mourner, "  that 
wouldn't  be  right,  but,  then,  to  think  that  I  hare  no 
mother — that's  the  thought  that  kills  me,  Con — just 
when  I  was  planuin',  day  and  night,  how  happy  we'd 
all  be  when  her  and  Biddy  and  the  children  would 
come  out  next  spring  or  fall !  Sure  I  never  grudged 
any  work  I  had  to  do,  thoagh  God  knows  it  WM 
hard  enough  at  times,  because  I  thought  it  was  for 


8^:  COS  o'rEGAN  ;   OR, 

my  mother  I  was  earnin',  and  my  greatest  comfort 
was  that  she  didn't  know  how  poorly  I  felt  at  times, 
and  how  ill  able  I  was  to  work.  And,  then,  I  was 
always  thinking  of  the  happy  days  we'd  have  to- 
gether, but  now— now— that's  all  over— I'll  never, 
never  see  her  again  in  this  world,— an'  I've  no  one 
to  work  for  now  !"  Throwing  her  apron  over  her 
head,  as  if  to  shut  out  a  world  that  was  now  hateful 
to  her,  the  poor  girl  wept  and  sobbed  for  some  time 
unrestrainedly,  for  Con  thought  it  best  to  let  her  cry 
it  out.  After  awhile,  however,  he  ventured  to  put 
in  a  word  of  remonstrance,  his  own  tears  flowing  fast 
as  he  spoke. 

"  I  declare  now,  Winny,  "  I'll  leave  the  place,  so  I 
will,  if  you  keep  crying  that  way.  It's  thankful  you'll 
b«  that  your  mother's  gone  to  rest,  when  once  you 
get  over  the  first  heavy  sorrow.  So  dry  up  yonr 
tears,  Winny,  and  let  us  talk  the  matter  over  quietly." 
«'  But,  tell  me,  Con,"  said  his  sister,  utcovering 
her  face,  and  making  an  effort  to  restrain  her  tears, 
"  tell  me,  did  you  get  any  Masses  said  for  her  ?" 

"  We  did,  indeed,  Winny.  Father  Halligan  said 
four  Masses  for  her,  besides  the  one  that  his  curate. 
Father  McDonnell,  said  the  day  of  the  funeral.  And 
there  wasn't  a  charity  that  Biddy  gave  since  her 
death  but  was  given  with  that  intention.  Oh  I  we 
didn't  forget  her,  Winny;  indeed  we  didn't.  As 
f»r  as  our  means  would  allow  us,  we  done  our  duty.'' 
««Welll  God  bless  you  for  that  same,"  sobbed 
Winny,  "I  know  Biddy  was  ever  and  always  a  good 


daugh 
you,  C 
part  o: 
be  th£ 
wring! 
weepii 
resting 
wonde 
"W 
mystei 
all  roa 
mothe 
know 
you  re 
was  a 
for  Di| 
^eard 

"W 
it,  and 
death! 
But  n( 

The 
tily  w: 
man's 
else,  s( 

As  f 
room, 
being 
the  re 


EMIORANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  TTOKLD 


8f 


satest  comfort 
[  felt  at  times, 
d,  then,  I  was 
we'd  have  to- 
er— I'll  never, 
,n'  I've  no  one 
proD  over  her 
Eis  now  hateful 
for  some  time 
t  to  let  her  cry 
ntured  to  put 
TS  flowing  fast, 

the  place,  so  I 
thankful  you'll 
vben  once  you 

0  dry  up  your 
ir  over  quietly." 
er,  uticovering 
train  her  tears, 
i  for  her  ?" 

f  Halligan  said 
that  his  curate, 
e  funeral.  And 
gave  since  her 
ation.  Oh!  we 
we  didn't.  As 
ione  our  duty.'' 
same,"  sobbed 

1  always  a  good 


daughter-in-law — may  the  Lord  reward  her  f  and  for 
you,  Con,  I  don't  need  to  be  told  that  you  acted  the 
part  of  a  good  son.  But  oh  !  oh !  can  it  be — can  it 
be  that  my  mother  is  dead — dead  and  gone  ?"  and 
wringing"  her  hands,  she  burst  into  a  fresh  fit  of 
weeping.  Con  could  advise  no  better  moans  of  ar- 
resting thiri  torrent  of  grief  than  by  exciting  Winny's 
wonder,  which  he  happily  had  it  in  his  power  to  do. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Winny,"  he  said,  in  a  low, 
mysterious,  voice, "  but  we  heard  the  Banshee  cryin' 
all  round  the  house  for  three  nights  before  my  poor 
mother  died  I  It's  truth  I  tell  you,  Winny.  Yoa 
know  the  Banshee  follows  the  O'Connor  family — 
you  remember  poor  Aunt  Aileen  that  died  when  she 
was  a  slip  of  a  girl,  and  how  the  Banshee  was  heard 
for  nights  and  nights  before  her  death.  You  never 
ieard  the  Banshee,  Winny  ?" 

"  No,  but  I  often  heard  others  say  they  did." 

"  Well,  sure  enough,  this  was  the  first  lime  /  heard 
it,  and  I  hope  it  will  be  the  last ;  it's  such  a  lonesome, 
deathly  cry,  that  it  makes  a  body  shiver  all  over. 
Bat  none  of  ua  saw  her,  thanks  be  to  God !" 

The  door-bell  then  rang  loudly,  and  Winny  has- 
tily wiped  her  eyes  to  admit  her  master.  The  old 
man's  mind  was  happily  taken  up  with  something 
else,  so  that  Winny's  swollen  eyes  passed  unnoticed. 

Aa  soon  as  she  had  left  up  the  tea  in  the  dining- 
room,  Winny  hastenea  to  give  Con  bis  supper, 
being  anxious  to  get  him  off  to  his  new  home  before 
the  return  of  the  hoasemud,  who  was  spending  tb« 


40 


CON  o'bbgan  ;  oa. 


evening  out,  and  whose  croas-examinationehe  wished 
to  avoid  in  the  present  state  of  her  mind. 

To  her  mistress  she  said  nothing  as  to  what  she 
had  heard,  for  Mrs.  Coulter  had  that  measured  and 
staid  character  which    belongs  to    New  England 
ladies,  and  the  cold,  formal  accents  of  her  condo- 
lence  would  have  fallen   drearily  on  the  fervent 
heart  of  the  Irish  girl.     "  No !  no !"  thought  Winny, 
as  she  looked  at  her,  seated  at  the  head  of  her  tea- 
table,  dispensing  its  comforts  to  her  family  with  as 
much  stiffness  and  formality  as  could  possibly  be 
thrown  into  the  occasion;  "  no,  no— the  look  of  her 
is  enough  to  turn  one's  heart  into  ice ;  she'd  be  only 
teasing  me  with  useless  questions;  but,  please  God ! 
I'll  tell  the  master  as  soon  as  I  get  a  chance.     God 
bless  his  kind  heart,  with  all  his  roughness,  a  body 
can't  help  warming  to  him." 

As  soon  as  she  possibly  could,  after  supper, 
Winny  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  sallied 
forth  with  Con  in  quest  of  a  boarding-house.  She 
knew  of  several  kept  by  acquaintances  of  her  own, 
but  there  were  many  points  to  be  considered  in  a 
matter  whose  consequences  might  be  so  important 
both  for  time  and  eternity.  The  choice  of  a  board- 
ing house  seems  a  small  thing,  but  it  very  often  de- 
cides the  fate  of  a  stranger  arriving  in  a  place 
where  all  is  new  to  him,  and  where  he  has  to  make, 
not  only  friends,  but  acquaintances.  The  character 
of  his  associates  is,  then,  of  the  last  importance, 
wad  may  influence  his  whole  after-life,  whether  for 


good    O! 

fully  sei 
and  mu 
family 
widow  i 
who  coi 
by  the 
was  nea 
on  the  ' 


£««|^(iUirW^t»?M'--' 


.ionehe  wished 
lind. 

IS  to  what  she 
measured  and 
New  England 
of  her  condo- 
n   the  fervent 
lought  "Winny^ 
jad  of  her  tea- 
family  with  as 
Id  possibly  be 
ihe  look  of  her 
;  she'd  be  only 
at,  please  God ! 
%  chance.     God 
ghness,  a  body 

!,  after  supper, 
twl,  and  sallied 
ing-honse.  She 
368  of  her  own, 
considered  in  a 
te  so  important 
oice  of  a  board- 
t  very  often  do- 
ing in  a  plaoe 
he  has  to  make, 
The  character 
last  importance, 
life,  whether  for 


IMIOBAKT  UFE  IN  THE  NBW  WORLD. 


41 


good  or  ill.  Happily,  both  Winny  and  Con  were 
fully  sensible  of  this,  and  after  some  consideration, 
and  much  consullation,  Con  was  received  into  the 
family  of  a  certain  Mrs.  Maloney,  a  respectable 
widow  from  the  next  parish  to  that  of  BallymuUen, 
who  contrived  to  support  herself  and  three  children 
by  the  profits  of  her  boarding-house.  The  house 
was  neat  and  clean,  although  scantly  furnished,  and, 
on  the  whole,  Con  thought  the  choice  a  good  one. 


it 


OOW   0*KKGAN  :   01% 


CHAPTER  III. 

Con  O'Reoan  was  early  at  hia  post  next  morning 
equipped  in  a  suit  of  working-clothes,  purchased  by 
himself  and  Wiuny  over-night,  and  having  announced 
himself  as  a  new  hand,  was  employed  by  the  other 
men  in  one  way  or  another  till  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
Coulter,  who  made  his  appearance  about  eight  o'clock. 
One  of  the  partners  came  in  soon  after,  and  imme- 
diately noticed  Con,  who  was  wheeling  out  some 
empty  boxes  on  a  truck. 

"  I  say,  Mr.  Coulter,  who  is  that  man  that  I  just 
mot  at  the  door  ?" 

"  Can't  say,"  returned  the  senior  partner,  drily ; 
«'  how  should  I  know  who  you  met  at  the  door  ?" 

«'  Oh !  I  mean  the  man  who  is  taking  out  those 
boxes.    I  never  saw  him  before." 

"Very  likely.  That's  a  man  whom  I  engaged 
yesterday  to  assist  in  the  warehouse.  He'll  make  a 
capital  porter,  after  a  while." 

«'  Yes,  but  aint  ho  Irish  ?  I  thought  we  were  to 
have  no  more  of  them  here.  We  have  quite  too 
many  as  it  is." 

«'  I  don't  know  as  to  that,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  with 
ft  sagacious  shake  of  the  head,  and  speaking  very 


•lowly 
work  t 
For  m; 
ploymi 
you  m 
genera 
way  tr 
well  ai 
obligit] 
there  i 

"Th 
that  til 
that  tl 
honors 

"Hi 
ders, " 
other 
Just  1< 
and  se 

"Y( 
Coultc 
sarcas 
last  s] 
Ameri 

"M 
ble  ol( 
my  coi 
ami; 
what'i 

"W 


EMIGRANT  UrE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


4S 


t  next  morning 
I,  purchased  by 
ving  announced 
3d  by  the  other 
arrival  of  Mr. 
)ut  eight  o'clock. 
,fler,  and  imme- 
leliug  out  Bome 

man  that  I  just 

p  partner,  drily; 
at  the  door  ?" 
.akiflg  out  those 

hom  I  engaged 
e.    He'll  make  a 

aght  we  were  to 
5  have  quite  too 

^r.  Coulter,  with 
,d  speaking  very 


•lowly ;  "  I  think  where  there  is  question  of  hard 
work  there  are  none  to  come  up  to  those  very  Irish. 
For  my  part,  I  have  had  many  of  them  in  my  em- 
ployment during  the  last  twenty  years,  and  1  tell 
you  now,  as  I  often  told  you  before,  that  I  have 
generally  found  them  industrious,  sober,  and  every 
way  trustworthy.  And,  then,  you  know  yourself  as 
well  as  I  do,  that  they  are  much  more  civil  and 
obliging.  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  see  why  it  is  that 
there  is  such  an  outcry  against  them." 

"There,  now,"  said  Pirns,  eagerly,  ".you  admit 
that  there  is  an  outcry  against  them,  and  that  proves 
that  they  deserve  it.  Americans  are  too  fair  and  too 
honorable  to  condemn  men  without  sufficient  cause.'' 

"  Humph  !"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders, "  there's  one  great  property  we  have  above  all 
other  people — that  of  blowing  our  own  trumpet. 
Just  let  this  poor  Irishman  alone — ^give  him  fair  play, 
and  see  if  he  don't  do  his  duty." 

"  You  have  certainly  a  strange  way  of  talking,  Mr. 
Coulter,"  said  the  other,  reddening  with  anger  at  the 
sarcasm  so  bluntly  conveyed  in  the  first  clause  of  the 
last  speech.  "  You,  at  least,  have  not  much  of  the 
American  about  you." 

"  Maybe  yes  and  maybe  no,"  said  the  imperturba- 
ble old  man ;  "  I'm  not  bound  to  follow  the  mass  of 
my  countrymen,  or  uphold  them  when  they  do  wrong, 
am  I  ? — I  have  a  mind  of  my  own,  Master  Pirns,  and 
what's  more,  I  mean  to  have  it  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  Well !  well !"  cried  Pirns,  pettiahly, "  keep  it  and 


u 


CON   o'nEGAN  ;  OB, 


welcome,  but  I  do  wish  you  would  oonsnlt  Mr  Wood 
and  myself  before  you  draw  those  ignorant,  hard- 
headed  Irish  Papists  about  us.  Just  at  a  time,  too, 
when  every  respectable  house  in  the  city,  indeed  all 
New  England  over,  is  making  it  a  point  to  get  rid 
of  them.  It  ill  becomes  us  to  give  such  an  example." 
"  Hear  him  now  I"  said  Coulter,  as  he  turned  the 
key  in  the  lock  of  the  office  door,  "  what  a  fuss  he 
makes  about  nothing  I  If  you  don't  want  to  keep 
the  young  man  here,  I'll  pay  him  out  of  my  own 
pocket,  and  employ  him  on  private  business  of  my 
own.     So  let  there  be  no  more  about  it." 

"Oh!  as  to  that,  Mr.  Coulter,  I  guess  neither 
Wood  nor  myself  thinks  any  more  of  a  few  dollars 
a  week  than  you  do — it's  the  principle  for  which  I 
contend." 

The  old  gentleman  threw  back  the  office  door 
with  a  loud  bang,  muttering  something  very  like  a 
consignment  of  his  Know-Nothing  partner  (for 
there  were  Know-Nothings  then  as  well  as  now, 
dear  reader,)  to  the  safe  keeping  of  a  most  unpopu- 
lar individual  commonly  known  as  "  Old  Nick," 
whereupon  Pima,  seeing  that  his  blood  was  up, 
thought  proper  to  betake  himself  to  an  upper  loft 
where  he  wns  wont  to  exercise  his  authority. ' 
Happily  there  were  none  of  the  obnoxious  race  to 
arouse  his  kindling  ire,  for  good  Mr.  Coulter  con* 
trived  to  keep  all  the  Irishmen  in  the  concern  about 
himself,  with  the  kindly  intention  of  screening 
them,  as  much  as  might  be,  from  the  over-watchful 


KMIORANT  UFK  IS  THE  NBW  WORLD. 


45 


alt  Mr.  Wood 
Ignorant,  hard- 
at  a  time,  too, 
;ity,  indeed  all 
)iut  to  get  rid 
h  an  example." 

be  turned  the 
what  a  fuBfl  he 

want  to  keep 
It  of  my  own 
(usinesB  of  my 

it." 

guess  neither 
f  a  few  dollars 
lie  for  which  I 

he  office  door 
ing  very  like  a 
;  partner  (for 
(  well  as  now, 
k  most  unpopu- 

"Old  Kick," 
blood  was  up, 
9  an  upper  lol^ 

his  authority, 
oxious  race  to 
T.  Coulter  con* 
I  concern  about 
I  of  screening 
e  over-watohful 


distrust  of  the  junior  partners,  and  the  contempt, 
uous  dislike  of  the  clerks. 

As  for  Con  O'Regan,  he  applied  himself  heart  and 
soul  to  please  his  employers.    Being  warned,  and, 
therefore,  half  armed,  by  the  friendly  advice  of  Mr. 
Coulter,  he  took  care  to  leave  nothing  in  the  power 
of  those  who  would  desire  nothing  more  than  to 
find  some  plausible  excuse  for  condemning  him. 
"  Well !   it  is  hard  enough,  too,"  would  he  some- 
times think  as  bo  wound  his  way  to  his  lodging- 
house  after  a  day  of  hard,  unremitting  toil;  "  here 
am  I  and  three  or  four  other  poor  Irishmen  work- 
ing like  slaves  from  morning  till  night,  doing  all  we 
can  to  please,  and  never  getting  one  word  of  praise 
or  encouragement  from  Monday  morning  till  Satur- 
day night,  for  even  Mr.  Coulter,  God  bless  him  I 
hardly  ever  speaks  to  us,  unless  to  give  us  some 
orders.     And  then,  if  the  least  thing  goes  wrong 
with  any  of  the  gentlemen,  we're  all  kept  in  hot 
water ;  it's  nothing  then  but '  stupid  Irish'  and  '  ig- 
norant Paddies,'  and  the  hardest  names  they  can 
think  of  for  us.     Well !  God  be  with  poor  old  Ire- 
land, anyhow !"  nnd  Con  would  invariably  end  his 
cogitations  with  a  heavy  figh. 

Very  soon  after  he  engaged  in  the  warehouse  of 
Coulter,  Pirns  dk  Co.,  he  went  one  eveping  to  see 
Winny,  who  contrived  as  soon  as  she  well  could  to 
send  Leah,  the  housemaid,  up  stairs  to  do  some- 
thing for  the  young  ladies.  The  coast  thus  clear 
she  hastened  to  profit  by  the  opportunity. 


u 


CON  o'reqan  ;  OR, 


"  And  now,  Con,"  said  "Winiiy,  placing  a  chair  fof 
her  brother  near  to  where  she  sat,  plucking  a  goose, 
•'and  now.  Con,  how  do  you  like  your  new  situa- 
tion? I  was  thinking  long  to  see  you  ever  since, 
bat  couldn't  manage  to  get  out,  for  we  had  a  good 
deal  of  company  here." 

She  did  not  tell  her  brother  what  she  knew  would 
only  fret  him,  that  amid  all  this  bustle  her  health 
was  Tory  indifferent,  so  that  she  had  been  at  times 
hardly  able  to  ho4d  up  her  head. 

"  Well !  on  the  whole,  I  can't  complain,  Winny, 
though,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  feel  at  home  in 
it.  I  know  I'm  earning  far  more  than  I  could  do  in 
Ireland,  but  somehow — "  he  paused,  cleared  his 
throat,  and  then  went  on  in  a  quick,  tremulous 
voice,  "  but  somehow — I  know  it's  foolish  in  rae  to 
say  so  after  coming  so  far  to  make  money — but 
there's  nothing  like  the  truth — I'd  rather  do  with 
less  at  home  in  Ireland,  for,  after  all,  Winny  dear, 
•  home's  homely,'  and  it's  true  enough  what  I  heard 
the  ladies  and  gentlemen  singing  oflen  up  at  the 
big  house, — 

'  Be  it  ever  so  humb'.e  there's  no  place  like  home.' " 

Winny  smiled,  but  her  smile  was  mournful,  for 
her  heart  had  often  echoed  that  sentiment  in  the 
loneliness  of  her  dark  cellar-kitchen  during  the  five 
long  years  she  had  been  from  home.  Often,  when 
her  heart  was  full  even  to  overflowing,  without  one 
near  of  her  own  race  or  her  own  religion  to  whom 


■he  C( 
ing  tl 
woal( 
of  Ihi 
whosi 
trial  1 

So 
but  it 
laugh 

II  ■y 

you  l 

you 

oours 

your 

it's  b 

Bidd; 

"T 

many 

altog 

no!  ] 

have 

they 

for  a1 

agaio 
II  ( 

bad  i 
"I 
I  cou 
mgo 
seen 


EMIGRANT  LITE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


iT 


g  a  chair  fo» 
cing  a  goose, 
r  new  situa- 
1  ever  Bince, 
3  bad  a  good 

knew  would 
e  her  health 
een  at  times 

ilain,  Winny, 
3I  at  home  in 
[  could  do  in 

cleared  his 
Ic,  tremulous 
lish  in  me  to 

money — but 
iher  do  with 
Winny  dear, 
what  I  heard 
m  up  at  the 

e  home.' " 

mournful,  for 
iment  in  the 
dring  the  five 
Often,  when 
,  without  one 
ion  to  whom 


the  could  impart  even  a  portion  of  her  overwhelm* 
ing  thoughts  and  feelings,  she  felt  as  though  words 
would  have  been  too  small  a  purchase  for  one  sight 
of  the  loved  ones  far  away  beyond  the  great  ocean 
whose  terrors  she  had  braved  to  come  to  a  land  "  of 
trial  and  unrest." 

So  she  keenly  felt  the  truth  of  what  Con  said, 
but  it  did  not  suit  her  to  say  so,  and  she  tried  to 
laugh  him  out  of  his  melancholy. 

"  Why,  Con,  are  you  home-sick  already  ? — didn't 
you  know  well  enough  before  you  left  home  that 
you  were  coming  to  a  strango  country,  and,  of 
course,  you  couldn't  expect  to  find  all  things  to 
your  liking  anywhere  you'd  go  ?  but  sure,  after  all, 
it's  but  natural  for  you  to  be  sorrowful — you  have 
Biddy  and  the  children  to  think  of." 

"  Well,  I  don't  deny  but  what  I  think  of  them 
many's  the  time,"  returned  Con,  "  but  it  isn't  that 
altogether  that  makes  me  feel  so  strange  here — oh, 
no !  I'd  get  over  that  in  time,  for,  please  God,  we'll 
have  them  out  before  very  long,  but  it's  the  way 
they  have  here  of  treating  Irishmen  like  dogs,  just 
for  all  the  world  as  if  we  were  forcing  in  on  them 
against  their  will." 

"  Oh  now.  Con,"  put  in  Winny,  "  it's  hardly  so 
bad  as  that.     Don't  be  makin'  it  worse  than  it  is." 

"  I'm  not  makin'  it  worse,  Winny !  I  wish  to  God 
I  could  tell  a  better  story,  but  there's  no  use  blind- 
mg  our  own  eyes.  Short  time  as  I'm  here,  I  have 
seen  plain  enough   that  Americas  very  difierenl 


48 


COK   o'BEaAN  ;   OB, 


from  what  we  thought  it  was.  Why,  don't  you  r» 
member,  Winny,  how  the  people  used  to  say  at 
home,  and  ourselves  amongst  the  rest,  that  there 
was  no  difference  made  here  between  Catholic  and 
Protestant,  or  Irishman  and  Englishman — no  mat- 
ter where  they  came  from,  or  who  they  were,  we 
thought  they  were  all  welcome  here,  and  that  cead 
mille  failthe  was  the  word  to  all  strangers.  Ah  I 
Winny,  Winny,  weren't  them  mighty  fine  drames 
entirely  ?  Isn't  it  a  thousand  pities  that  they're  all 
gone  before  we're  long  in  America  ?" 

"  Well !  well  I  Con,"  said  Winny,  as  she  proceeded 
to  the  stove  to  singe  her  goose,  "  there's  no  use  in 
lookin'  back.  Look  straight  before  you,  man,  and 
try  to  make  the  best  of  it,  now  that  you  are  here." 

"  That's  just  what  I  mean  to  do,  with  God's  assist- 
ance. You  know  what  we  used  to  read  in  our 
Manson's  Spelling-book  long  ago :  '  Faint  heart 
never  won  fair  lady' — so  I  suppose  the  fair  hdy 
means  good  luck  as  well,  and  I've  made  up  my 
miud  to  luxve  good  luck,  or  I'll  know  for  what.  But 
do  you  know,  Winny,  it  pulls  my  courage  down  a 
peg  when  I  think  of  all  our  friends  and  neighbors 
that  are  here  so  many  years  and  have  so  little  by 
them." 

"  Oh  nonsense,  Con,  how  could  you  expect  such 
men  as  Paul  Bergen  and  Tom  Derragh  to  have 
either  money  or  value  ?" 

"  No  more  I  don't ;  it's  not  of  them  I'm  tbinkiog, 
for  I  see  plain  enough  that  the  fault  is  mostly  their 


own,  b 
and  a  g 
sober,  \ 
and  the 
that  tJie 
they  li^ 
downiij 
only  fr( 
every  p 
This  is 
the  moi 
think  ii 
for  it's 
the  doo 

"We 
cheerful 
was  he: 
present! 
appearc 
but  just 
I  hear  I 

Havii 
dressed 
his  way 
the  wa] 
used  to 
thoughl 
and  be: 
in  her  f 
what's  ( 


KMIGRANT  LIFE  tN  THK  NEW  WORLD. 


49 


lon't  you  r» 
id  to  say  at 
I,  that  there 
Catholic  and 
an — no  mat- 
ley  were,  we 
,nd  that  cead 
ingers.  Ah  i 
fine  drames 
at  they're  all 

le  proceeded 
e's  no  use  in 
ou,  man,  and 
)u  are  here." 
God's  assist- 
read  in  our 
Faint  heart 
he  fair  lady 
made  up  my 
r  what.  But 
rage  down  a 
nd  neighbors 
I  so  little  by 

expect  such 
agh  to  have 

I'm  thinking, 
mostly  iheir 


own,  but  there's  James  Reilly  and  Pat  Mulvany, 
and  a  good  many  others  that  we  both  know,  steady, 
sober,  bard-working  men — they  were  that  at  home, 
and  they're  just  the  same  here — well,  I  don't  see 
that  they're  any  better  off  than  the  others.  It's  true 
they  live  better,  and  their  families  are  not  in  real 
downright  hardship,  like  Paul  Bergen's,  but  still  ii's 
only  from  hand  to  month  with  them,  and  it  takes 
every  penny  they  can  make  to  keep  things  square. 
This  is  what  disheartens  me  at  times,  Winny,  a  1 
the  more  I  think  of  it,  it's  all  the  worse.  But 
think  it's  gettin'  late,  and  I'll  have  to  be  up  early, 
for  it's  me  that  takes  down  the  shutters  and  opens 
the  doors  this  last  fortnight  or  so." 

"  Well,  then,  you'd  better  go,"  said  Winny,  in  aa 
cheerful  a  tone  as  she  could  command,  for  her  heart 
was  heavy  with  the  home-truths  which  Con  had 
presented  more  clearly  to  her  mind  than  they  ever 
appeared  to  her  before.  *'  It's  nearly  nine  o'clock, 
but  just  wait  a  minute  till  you  bid  Leah  good  night, 
I  hear  her  foot  stealing  down  the  stairs." 

Having  shaken  hands  with  the  prim  and  neatly- 
dressed  Leah,  and  wished  her  good  night.  Con  took 
his  way  to  bis  home  for  the  time  being,  thinking  all 
the  way  that  Winny  didn't  look  at  all  like  what  she 
used  to  do.  "  She  used  to  be  as  merry  as  a  kitten," 
thought  he,  "  and  as  red  as  a  rose ;  now  she's  dull 
and  heavy,  and  melancholy-like,  with  no  mure  color 
in  her  fkce  than  there  is  in  a  whin-stone.  And  then 
what's  come  of  the  fine  Sunday  clothes  she  said  she 


M 


CON   O^RIOAN  ;   OR, 


had  ?  ne'er  a  one  of  them  has  myself  seen,  though 
we  went  to  Mass  together  every  Sunday  since  I 
came.  Ah.  Winny,  poor  Winny  !  I'm  afeard  it's 
what  you  left  yourself  bare  and  naked  to  send  homo 
money!  and  I  suppose  il*8  often  the  same  story 
might  be  told  of  them  that  sends  home  money 
to  Ireland  !'• 

It  was  only  a  few  days  after  this  visit  to  Winny 
that  Con  was  invited  by  one  Phil  McDermot  to  a 
dance  at  his  house,  and  Con,  elated  vfiih  the 
thoughts  of  meeting  many  old  acquaintances,  as  he 
was  assured  he  would,  went  to  Mr.  Coulter's  that 
same  evening  to  ask  Winuy  to  accompany  him  on 
the  following  evening.  Great  was  his  surprise 
when  Winny  shook  her  head  and  told  him  she 
couldn't  go,  and  what  was  more,  she  didn't  want  to 

go. 

"  Why,  sure  you're  not  in  earnest,  Winny,"  and 
Con  opened  his  eyes  to  their  fullest  extent ;  "  what 
would  ail  you  but  you'd  go  ?  I'm  sure  there  s  no 
one  in  more  need  of  a  little  diversion  than  you  are, 
and  what's  more,  I'll  not  go  a  step  without  you.  So 
go  you  must !" 

«'  No,  nor  yott'll  not  go  either,  Con— at  least  with 
my  will,  an'  I  think  you'll  hardly  go  against  it." 

*  Con's  snrmWe  was  perfectly  correct,  as  all  who  take  an  Inr 
terest  iu  the  IiUh  in  America  can  truly  testify.  Wo  have 
all  of  us  known  numerous  instances  of  poor  servant  girls  send- 
ing home  several  pounds  in  the  course  of  a  couple  of  years, 
from  an  average  wages  of  /lr«  dollart  a  mouth. 


Con 
detect 
smile,  I 
graver 

"I'm 
very,  v 
You  ki 
and  all 
home,  { 
one  tha 
thinks  ( 
there's 
than  ai 
Timlin 
on  any 

"W< 
to  go  n 
with  y< 

"Jui 
giving 
myself 
about  i 
heart." 

"Bu 
Con,  Bl 

"Lei 
with  s( 
his  net 
the  lik< 
boy  an 


EKIORA.VT  MFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


61 


If  seen,  tbongh 
Junday  since  I 
['m  afeard  il'a 
d  to  send  homo 
,he  same  Btory 
B  home  money 

visit  to  Winny 
kIcDermot  to  a 
lated  With  the 
aintances,  as  he 
.  Coulter's  that 
ompany  him  on 
ts  his  surprise 
1  told  him  she 
3  didn't  want  to 

St,  Winny,"  and 

extent ;  "  what 

sure  there  8  no 

on  than  you  are, 

vithout  you.    So 

>n — at  least  with 
)  against  it." 

I  all  who  take  an  in- 
r  testify.  We  have 
ir  servant  girU  send- 
a  couple  of  years, 
outh. 


Con  looked  hard  .it  Winny,  to  see  if  he  could 
detect  even  the  8li<;htest  semblance  of  a  lurking 
Bmiie,  but  there  was  none  !  Winny's  face  was  even 
graver  than  usual,  as  she  said  : 

"  I'm  quite  in  earnest.  Con.  These  dances  are 
very,  very  bad  places  of  resort  for  young  people. 
You  know  the  penny  dances,  and  the  barn-dances 
and  all  such  things  were  forbidden  by  the  clergy  at 
home,  an*  it's  ten  times  worse  they  are  here.  No 
one  that  wants  to  keep  up  a  decent  character  ever 
thinks  of  going  to  a  dance  of  this  kind.  They  say 
there's  more  mischief  done  at  them  night-dances 
than  anywhere  else.  I  might  never  face  Father 
Timlin  if  I  went,  and  besides  I  wouldn't  go  myself 
on  any  account,  when  I  know  it's  wrong  to  do  it." 

"  Well !  but  sure  it  wouldn't  be  any  great  harm 
to  go  now,  Winny,  when  you'd  have  your  brother 
with  you  ?" 

"  Just  as  mi  ch  harm  as  if  I  weut  alone,  for  I'd  be 
giving  yon  an  1  others  bad  example,  and  putting 
myself  and  you,  too,  in  harm's  way,  so  say  no  more 
about  it,  Con,  if  you  don't  wish  to  grieve  me  to  the 
heart." 

"  But  what  will  Phil  McDerraot  say  ?'•  persisted 
Con,  still  hardly  convinced. 

"  Let  him  say  what  he  pleases,"  returned  Winny, 
with  some  sharpness.  "  He  wanted  to  get  you  into 
his  net,  as  he  has  got  many  another.  Ii'ti  him  and 
the  like  of  him  that  ruins  many  and  many  a  decent 
boy  and  girl,  enticing  them  into  all  sorts  of  bad 


01  CON  o'rman  ;  on, 

company  for  the  sake  of  selling  their  dirty  drop  of 
poisonous  liquor.  They'll  come  to  them  with  a 
friendly  word  and  a  deceitful  smile,  and  talk  to 
them  about  home,  till  they  make  them  b'Ueve  they're 
the  best  friends  they  have  in  the  world,  an'  all  the 
time  they'd  sell  them  body  and  soul  for  sixpence 
Say  to  Phil  McDermot,  indeed  !  just  say  nothing  at 
r11,  but  keep  away  from  him  altogether.  If  you 
don't  b'lieve  me,  just  ask  the  priest  the  first  time 
you  go  to  confession,  au'/you'll  see  what  he'll  say  to 

you  1" 

"  That's  enough,  Winny  dear,"  said  Con  eagerly, 
seeing  that  his  sister  appeared  rather  annoyed  at 
his  pertinacity ;  "  think  no  more  about  it,  and  nei- 
ther will  I.  What  the  clergy  set  their  face  against 
must  bo  bad  everywhere,  so  I'll  have  nothing  to  do 
with  these  dances." 

"  God  bless  you.  Con,"  said  Winny  fervently,  her 
large  dark  eyes  filling  with  tears  of  joy  and  affec- 
tion ;  "  you'll  never  be  sorry  for  making  that  promise, 
if  yon  have  the  grace  to  keep  it.  I  know  you  were 
a  great  dancer  at  home,  but  keep  from  it  here,  Con, 
for  it's  diflFerent  company  you'd  meet  altogether." 

So  the  brother  and  sister  parted  for  that  time, 
and  Con  went  home  well  satisfied  with  himself,  and 
grateful  to  Winny  for  her  watchful  solicitude. 

The  following  day  passed  away  without  any  re- 
markable occurrence,  and  as  evening  drew  near.  Con 
could  not  help  thinking  of  the  dance.  Dancing  had, 
for  years,  been  his  favorite  amusement,  and  whether 


tt  was 
"the 
was  Ic 
very  t 
then  L 
vice,  t 
forC( 
or  pul 
demni 
rality. 
thefl( 
ward 
under 
wife  1 
of  be: 
God, 
himse 
be  abl 
in  the 
put  al 
notsf 

♦Th 
land  fi 
of  the 
Derail) 
tome  t 

fDi 
Irelain 
all  the 
who,  ' 
Uie  cal 


KMIGRANT  I.IFR  IX  THE  NBW  TTORI.D. 


M 


r  dirty  drop  of 
3  them  with  a 
le,  and  talk  to 
a  Vlieve  they're 
orld,  an'  all  the 
ttl  for  §ixpence 
t  Bay  nothing  at 
gether.  If  you 
jt  the  first  time 
what  he'll  say  to 

lid  Con  eagerly, 
Lher  annoyed  at 
bout  it,  and  nei- 
heir  face  against 
^e  nothing  to  do 

oy  fervently,  her 
of  joy  and  affeo- 
ing  that  promise, 
L  know  yon  were 
rom  it  here.  Con, 
let  altogether." 
d  for  that  time, 
with  himself,  and 

solicitude. 

without  any  re- 
g  drew  near.  Con 
le.  Dancing  had, 
lent,  and  whether 


tt  was  at  "  patron,"*  wedding,  or  in  competition  for 
"  the  cake,"t  Con  was  always  first  on  the  list  It 
was  long  since  he  had  had  "  a  good  dance,"  ani  the 
very  thought  of  it  made  him  step  more  lightly,  but 
then  he  could  not  think  of  disregarding  Winny's  ad- 
vice, enforced  as  it  was  by  the  precepts  of  religion, 
for  Con  knew  very  well  that  night-dances  in  taverns 
or  public  houses  were  everywhere  and  always  con- 
demned by  the  Church  as  inimical  to  Christian  mo- 
rality. So  Con  nlanfully  put  away  his  longings  after 
the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  and  sent  his  thoughts  home- 
ward over  the  sea  to  the  little  thatched  cottage 
under  the  sycamore  tree,  where  he  had  left  his  young 
wife  and  her  two  little  ones  in  anxious  expectation 
of  being  sojn  sent  for  to  America.  And,  please 
God,  they'll  not  have  to  wait  long,"  said  Con  v^ithin 
himself;  "  if  I  only  keep  my  earnings  together,  I'll 
bo  able  to  get  them  out  next  spring,  or  at  farthest 
in  the  fall,  and  won't  we  be  all  happy  then  ?  So  I'll 
put  all  these  foolish  thoughts  out  of  my  mind,  and 
not  spend  a  shilling  that  I  C4q  help  till  I  have  enough 

*  The  famoaa  annnal  leaUrals  he'd  in  the  raral  parts  of  Ire- 
land from  time  immemorial,  on  the  feast  of  the  Patron  Saint 
of  the  pariah.  The  dance  ia  always  held  in  the  open  air,  ge« 
Derail;  at  some  crots-roadi,  or  on  the  smooth  green  sward  of 
some  tequeslered  vale. 

f  D<iDciDg  for  the  cake  is,  I  believe,  a  castom  pecnliar  to 
Ireland.  The  important  edible  is  placed  on  high  in  view  of 
all  the  company,  and  enviable  is  the  lot  of  the  "  dancing  pair," 
who,  "  by  tiring  others  down,"  obtain  the  right  to  take  dowa 
the  cake.    Theae  dances  are  also  held  in  the  open  air. 


u 


COM  o'reoan  ;  OR, 


to  send  for  Biddy  and  the  children."  On  the  second 
day  after  this,  Mr,  Coulter  called  Con  into  his  office 
to  dust  it  out,  and  taking  up  the  morning  paper 
■which  he  had  just  laid  down,  he  gruffly  asked  his 
new  porter  if  he  had  been  at  a  dance  on  the  previous 
evening. 

"No,  sir,"  said  Con,  turning  round  in  some  sur- 
prise ;  "  I  was  not,  indeed." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  in 
a  softer  tone ;  "  they're  a  bad  business — a  disgrace- 
ful business,  these  Irish  dances,  and  if  you're  wise 
you'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  them.  It  seems  there 
■was  one  last  night  at  a  certain  tavern  kept  by  one 
HcDermot,  and,  as  usual,  a  number  of  the  men  got 
drunk ;  they  then  began  to  quarrel,  and  pitched  into 
each  other  like  fury,  the  watchmen  effected  an  en- 
trance, and  took  the  whole  party  off"  to  the  station- 
bouse,  Avhere  they  spent  the  night.  Yesterday  morn- 
ing they  were  all  brought  up  for  trial  in  the  police 
court,  and  two  of  them  were  committed  to  jail  under 
charge  of  *  assault  and  battery.'  Several  of  the  others 
were  fined.  There  it  is,  you  see,  Con  O'Regan, — 
how  can  Americans  have  any  respect  for  people  that 
act  in  such  a  way  ? — and  this  is  quite  a  common  oc- 
currence—there's hardly  a  morning  but  we  have  such 
accounts  of  the  winding  up  of  *  dances.' " 

Con  stood  aghast  on  hearing  this  disgraceful  story. 
"  And  wlial  are  tho  names,  if  you  please,  sir,  of  the 
two  men  that  were  sent  to  jail  ?" 
Mr.  Coulter  referred  again  to  his  paper.    "  Their 


names 
Thoma 
■what  < 
ain't  tl 

"Th 
else,  tl 
make  i 
better 

The 

•was  gl 

what  1 

titude 

a  shar 

been  i 

"  aftei 

been  i 

comp£ 

'  brick 

such  I 

what 

guidec 

creati 

of  ha' 

enouQ 

In 

Winn 

poned 

the  81 

taken 

that 


On  the  seoond 

into  his  office 
lorning  paper 
affly  asked  his 
n  the  previous 

[  in  some  snr- 

gcntleman,  in 
a — a  disgrace- 
if  you're  wise 
It  seems  there 
n  kept  by  one 
f  the  men  got 
id  pitched  into 
iffected  an  en* 
to  the  station- 
esterday  morn- 
il  in  the  police 
3d  to  jail  under 
•aloftheotherg 
an  O'Regan, — 
for  people  that 
a  common  oc- 
t  we  have  such 

8.'  " 

sgraceful  story, 
■ase,  sir,  of  the 


)aper. 


"  Their 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


M 


names? — ah! — let  me  see — yes,  here  they  are — 
Thomas  Derragh  and  Bernard  Brady.  Well,  Con, 
•what  do  you  say  to  these  countrymen  of  yours  ? — 
ain't  they  fine  fellows  ?" 

"They're  unfortunate  fellows,  sir,  and  nothing 
else,  that  left  their  own  country  and  came  so  far  to 
make  a  bad  hand  of  themselves.  God  grant  them 
better  sense ;  that's  all  I  ean  say !" 

The  office  was  now  thoroughly  dusted,  and  Con 
■was  glad  to  make  his  escape,  in  oider  to  think  over 
what  he  had  just  heard.  His  first  thought  was  gra- 
titude to  Heaven  for  having  saved  him  from  being 
a  sharer  in  the  disgrace  of  these  rioters.  "  If  I  had 
been  so  headstrong  as  to  go  there,"  thought  he, 
"  after  all  that  Winny  said,  it's  in  jail  I  might  have 
been  now  with  unfortunate  Tom  Derragh  and  his 
companion.  I  suppose  this  Brady  is  one  of  the 
'  bricks'  he  talked  of— the  fine  jolly  fellows  that  lived 
such  a  merry  life.  Ah !  then,  isn't  it  true  enough 
what  the  old  people  soy  in  Ireland :  *  They're  well 
guided  iiiat  God  guides  V  May  the  Lord  keep  every 
creature  out  of  bad  company !— sure,  the  very  thoughts 
of  havin'  a  body's  name  in  the  papers  that  way  is 
enough  to  make  me  tremble  all  over  I" 

In  the  evening  he  made  it  his  business  to  see 
Winny,  iu  order  to  let  her  know  what  had  hap- 
pened. But  he  found  Winny  as  well  informed  on 
the  subject  as  he  was  himself,  Mrs.  Coulter  having 
taken  good  care  that  she  should  hear  it.  Indeed, 
that  worthy  lady  was  always  on  the  look-out  for 


6« 


CON    O'KKOAN  ;    OR, 


the  police  reports,  having  a  singular  desire  to  note 
the  wild  vagaries  of  "the  low  Irish,"  as  she  used 
to  say.  Those  '■  reports"  in  which  the  Irish  figured 
were  carefully  treasured  in  her  retentive  memory, 
and  retailed  with  notes  and  comments,  first  to  those 
of  her  own  household — WinDj,  of  amrae,  included — 
and  subsequently  to  all  her  visitors  during  the  day. 
To  Winny,  Mrs.  Coulter's  remarks  on  these  occa- 
sions invariably  assumed  a  charitable,  sympathizing 
tone,  as  though  condoling  with  the  poor  girl  on  her 
Irreparable  misfortune  in  being  connected  with  such 
disorderly  characters  by  the  double  bond  of  coun 
try  and  religion.  To  all  others,  her  husband  in 
olndod,  the  good  lady  spoke  with  all  the  fire  of  in- 
spiration on  the  grievous  ein  committed  by  the 
government  in  not  endeavoring  to  check  the  emi- 
gration of  those  degraded  Irish,  whose  crimes  were 
enough  to  draw  down  vengeance  on  any  country. 

"Softly,  softly,  my  good  Prudence,"  would  her 
husband  reply.  "  Do  you  think  there  are  no  crimes 
committed  in  this  land  except  by  the  Irish?  Pshaw, 
woman,  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself.  Some  of  the 
Irish  are  imprudent,  I  grant  yon,  and  will  get  drunk 
and  oome  to  blows ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,"  he  add- 
ed in  a  lower  voice,  "  their  foibles  are  always  made 
the  most  of,  whether  in  police  reports  or  private 
conversation — but  after  all,  Prudence,  they  are  not 
by  any  means  addicted  to  the  dark,  secret,  unmen 
tionable  crimes,  which  are  of  daily  occurrence 
amongst  other  sections  of  the  community.    Better 


get  dri 
do  woi 
these  V 
hear  tb 
bors. 
even  th 
ral  poi: 
then  it 
tiicm  at 
employi 
hardest 
we  shal 
made  t( 

"Ho\ 
lady,  " 
country 

"All 

"I  do 
idolatro 
phia.     ] 

"We; 
husbanc 
old  Nc\ 
cry  agai 
opinion, 
it  who  1 
pride  o 
ritans  w 
religion 
incousis 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NKVT  WORLD. 


61 


estre  to  note 
'  as  she  used 
Irish  figured 
Lire  memory, 
first  to  those 
w,  included — 
iriog  the  day. 
1  these  occa- 
BympathiziDg 
or  girl  on  her 
ted  with  such 
ond  of  coun 
husband  in 
ihe  fire  of  in- 
itted  by  the 
leck  the  emi- 
i  crimes  were 
ny  country. 
!,"  would  her 
are  no  crimes 
rish?  Pshaw, 
Some  of  the 
vill  get  drunk 
•uth,"  he  add- 
always  made 
tfl  or  private 
they  are  not 
ecret,  unmen 
y  occurrence 
ioity.    Better 


get  drunk  and  blacken  each  other's  eyes  than  to- 
do  worse,  Mrs.  Coulter.  I  don't  want  to  defend 
these  wild  doings  of  the  Irish,  but  neither  will  I 
hear  them  acoubed  of  being  worse  than  their  neigh- 
bors. I  tell  you  they  are  not.  With  all  their  faults 
even  the  very  worst  of  them  are  no  worse,  in  a  mo- 
ral point  of  view,  than  those  around  them.  And 
then  it  can't  be  denied  that  the  great  majority  of 
them  are  good  citizens;  honest,  submissive  to  tbeir 
employers,  and  able  and  willing  to  undertake  the 
hardest  work.  Let  us  do  them  justice,  then,  and 
we  shall  not  find  them  one-half  as  bad  as  they  are 
made  to  appear." 

"  How  is  it,  then,  Mr.  Coulter,"  gaid  the  indignant 
lady,  "  that  they  are  in  such  bad  repute  all  over  the 
country  ?" 

"  All  over  New  England,  you  mean." 

"  I  don't  m^an  New  England  alone— see  how  their 
idolatrous  churches  were  burned  lately  in  Philadel- 
phia.   I  guess  that  is  not  in  New  Enghnd— is  it  ?" 

"  Well  I  it's  all  the  same.  Prudence,"  returned  the 
husband.  "  Philadelphia  is  just  a  huge  chip  of  the 
old  New  England  block.  The  reason  of  all  this  out- 
cry against  the  Irish  is  pretty  plain,  in  my  humble 
opinion.  Their  religion  is  their  great  offence,  deny 
it  who  will,  and  it's  rather  inconsistent  for  us,  who 
pride  ourselves  on  our  descent  from  the  old  Pu- 
ritans who  lefl  England,  as  they  said,  on  account  of 
religious  persecution— I  say,  Mrs.  Coulter,  it  is  rather 
inconsistent  for  us  to  raise  the  banner  of  persecution 


M  CON  o'bsoan  ;  OR, 

en  this  free  soil,  and  cry  down  a  whole  people  be- 
cause  they  happen  to  profess  a  faith  which  don't  go 
down  Avell  with  Protestant  Americans.  But  I  knoV 
I  might  as  well  lallc  to  the  wall  as  try  to  remove 
your  prejudices,  so  let  us  have  dinner  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. I'm  as  hungry  as  a  hawk,  after  all  that  talk- 
ing.^' 

Mrs.  Coulter  put  on  her  most  chilling  look,  and 
wore  it  all  the  time  of  dinner,  to  the  no  small  amuse- 
ment of  her  worthy  husband,  who  cared  little  for 
sour  looks  80  long  as  he  had  a  good  substantial  din- 
ner before  him.  As  for  Winny,  she  hid  her  blusheB 
and  her  tears  in  the  privacy  of  the  kitchen,  as  it  wm 
Leah's  duty  to  attend  the  table. 


A  rs 

at  Phil 
request 
He  fou 
less  asf 
it  ie  tr 
her  wo 
to  be  i 
near  th 
himself 
them  n 
was  ev 
eyes, 
that  C( 
by  Nor 
a  sign  t 
to  Con 
she  8ui( 
Con,  <]( 
withoui 
play  wl 
been  di 
BO  we'r 
DOW  as 


lie  people  b* 
?hich  don't  go 
.  But  I  knoV 
try  to  remove 
as  soon  as  pos- 
r  all  that  talk- 

lling  look,  and 
lO  small  aranse- 
sared  little  for 
substantial  din- 
hid  her  blusbes 
tcben,  as  it  wm 


KMIORANT  LIFE  IN  THE  SEW  WORLD. 


M^ 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  FBW  days  subsequent  to  the  unfortunate  dance 
at  Phil  McDermot'fl,  Con  O'Regan  went,  at  Winny's 
request,  to  see  how  matters  stood  at  Paul  Bergen's. 
He  found  the  household  wearing  a  still  more  cheer- 
less aepect  than  when  he  saw  it  last.  Mrs.  Bergen, 
it  is  true,  was  moving  about,  but  still  wrapped  in 
her  woollen  shawl,  and  looking  as  though  she  ought 
to  be  in  her  bed.  The  baby  was  asleep  in  a  cradle 
near  the  stove,  and  at  a  table  in  one  corner  sat  Paul 
himself  playing  cards  with  three  other  men,  all  of 
them  more  or  less  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  as 
was  evident  from  their  flushed  cheeks  and  heavy 
eyes.  So  intent  were  they  all  four  on  their  game 
that  Con's  entrance  was  happily  unnoticed,  except 
by  Nora  herself  and  some  of  the  children.  Making 
a  sign  to  them  to  keep  quiet,  Mrs.  Bergen  motioned 
to  Con  to  remain  at  the  door,  and  going  over  to  him, 
she  said  in  a  low,  eager  whisper  :  "  For  God's  sake. 
Con,  don't  come  in! — if  you  do,  you'll  not  get  away 
without  losing  less  or  more,  for  they'll  make  you 
play  whether  you  will  or  no.  Yon  see  they've  all 
been  drinking,  an'  they've  just  got  in  a  quart  of  gin, 
80  we're  in  for  a  night  of  it,  God  help  us !  Be  off 
DOW  as  fast  as  yoa  can  before  Paul  sees  you,  bat 


» 


CON  o'kkgan  ;  OR, 


oome  again  soon,  for  poor  Peter's  very  bad  with 
roe,  an'  I've  had  trouble  to  no  end  since  you  an' 
Winny  were  here.  Not  a  word,  now.  Goodnight, 
an'  God  be  with  you."  So  saying,  she  literally  pushed 
Con  out,  and  hastily  closed  the  door  after  him. 

In  a  little  truckle  bed  behind  the  cradle  lay  Peter 
moaning  piteously,  and  tossing  restlessly  from  side 
to  side.  It  was  evident  that  the  boy  had  sustained 
some  bodily  injury  which  had,  in  all  probability, 
caused  his  sickness,  for  his  head  was  bandaged  round 
and  round,  so  that  only  the  lower  part  of  his  faod 
was  visible.  Hia  mind  was  evidently  wandering, 
for  he  kept  muttering  about  one  thing  and  another, 
iu  incoherent,  broken  sentences,  not  seldom  giving 
utterance  to  some  oath  or  imprecation  that  made 
his  mother's  flesh  creep.  On  such  occasions  she 
would  softly  remind  him  of  the  presence  of  God, 
and  that  all  such  talk  was  bad  and  sinful,  but  Peter 
would  only  reply  with  a  mocking  laugh,  or  with 
language  still  more  profane.  "  Water,  water  !"  was 
the  constant  cry  of  his  feverish  delirium,  aud  hia 
mother's  tears  mingled  with  the  draught  as  she 
every  few  minutes  put  it  to  his  parched  lips. 

"  Oh,  child  I  child  !'  would  poor  Nora  Bergen 
say  almost  aloud,  forgetting,  in  the  excess  of  her 
ill  ^ui:ih,  the  presence  of  the  drunken  party  at  the 
tab'  J ;  "  child !  they  have  killed  your  soul  as  well  an 
your  body  I — he'll  die — he'll  die,  an'  no  more  sense 
or  feolin'  in  him  than  a  stone,  with  them  terrible 
enrses  on  bis  poor  p;irched  lips.    May  the  Lord  ia 


heaven 

family ! 
on  the 
was  evi 
remaini 
the  poc 
his  hare 
himself 
knows  1 
iu  the  I 
maybe 
what'll 
Allal 
brain, 
altercat 
tion  in 
he  cried 
the  tab 
some  gi 
"  Ind( 
but   stil 
tumbler 
"  and  it 
You're 
over  the 
No  an 
her  feet 
squattinj 
kand  on 


I'ery  bad  with 

since  yon  an' 
Good  night, 
iterally  pushed 
after  him. 
radle  lay  Peter 
ssBly  from  side 

had  sustained 
lU  probability, 
andaged  round 
art  of  bia  face 
Lly  wandering, 
g  and  another, 

seldom  giving 
.ion  that  made 

oooasiona  she 
isenoe  of  God, 
nfut,  bat  Peter 
laugh,  or  with 
!r,  water !"  waa 
lirium,  aud  hia 
iraught  as  she 
ed  lips. 

Nora   Bergen 

excess  of  her 
sn  party  at  the 

soul  as  well  an 
no  more  sense 

them  terrible 
ly  the  Lord  ia 


BMIGBA.VT  UFE  I.V  THK  NEW  WORU).  ^ 

heaven  look  on  us  this  night  for  a  poor  unfortunate 
family !— and  then,"  she  would  add,  as  her  eye  fell 
on  the  swollen,  lowering  brow  of  Paul  Bergen,  who 
was  every  moment  waxing  more  sullen  as  the  small 
remains  of  his  hard  earnings  went  successively  into 
the  pockets  of  the  other  sharks,  "  and  then  to  seo 
his  hard-hearted  father  sittin'  there  makiu'  a  beast  of 
himself  an'  spendin'  the  little  that  he  has,  when  he 
knows  right  .o'.l  that  we  h-v^n't  hardly  a  bit  or  sup 
in  the  house  for  our  breakfast,  ;:n'  poor  Peter  lyin', 
maybe  in  the  jaws  of  death!  Ochonel  ochone! 
what'U  we  do,  at  all  ?" 

All  at  once  another  wild  notion  entered  Peter'a 
brain.  His  father's  voice  reached  his  ear  in  loud 
altercation,  and  the  sound  awoke  a  dormant  pulsa- 
tion  in  tho  poor  boy's  heart.  "  Father  1  father  !" 
he  cried,  raising  bis  voice  high  above  the  clamor  at 
the  tahie ;  "  father !  I  want  some  gin— give  me 
some  gin,  father  T 

"  Indeed,  then,  I  will,  my  son,"  said  the  besotted, 
but  still  good-natured  father,  laying  hold  of  his 
tumbler,  which  was  still  half  full  of  gin  and  water, 
"  and  it's  glad  I  am  to  hear  your  voice  again. 
You're  better,  aren't  you  ?"  leaning  as  he  spoke 
over  the  8ick:bed,  with  the  tumbler  in  bis  hand. 

No  answer  from  Peter,  but  his  mother  started  to 
her  feet  from  where  she  had  been  sitting,  or  rather 
squatting,  at  the  foot  of  toe  bed,  and  laying  her 
hand  on  the  glass,  cried  with  wild  eagerness : 


ea 


CON  o'keoan  ;  OR, 


are  you  mad  If — snre 


"  Why,  Paul  Bergen  ! 
ravin'  the  child  ia  !" 

"  liavin'  or  not  ravin',  I  tell  you,  Nora,  he  must 
have  what  he  wants — a  little  drop  will  do  him  no 
harm,  but  a  deal  of  good.  Don't  be  botherin'  mo 
•with  your  nonsensical  talk.  Peter,  don't  you  want 
some  gin  ?"  he  asked,  bending  again  over  the  sense- 
less child. 

"  Yes,  yes — gin — I  want  gin  I"  came  distinctly 
from  the  dry,  fever-cracked  lips. 

The  glass  was  instantly  at  his  lips,  held  by  the 
unsteady  hand  of  the  drunken  father,  while  the 
mother  in  vain  tried  to  take  it  away,  crying : 
"  You'll  kill  him,  Paul— oh.  Lord !  oh,  Lord  !  you'll 
kill  bim !" 

"  Let  me  alone,"  was  the  answer ;  "  don't  you  see 
how  he  drinks  it  down  as  if  it  was  honey — I  tell 
you  it'll  do  him  good." 

•The  mother,  seeing  her  efforts  useless,  wrung  her 
hands  and  sank  once  more  on  her  low  seat  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  the  children  all  setting  up  a  piteous 
ory  when  they  saw  their  mother  in  such  distress. 
Jane  went  over  to  her  and  put  her  arm  around  her 
neck,  beseeching  her  not  to  cry  that  way,  though 
the  tears  were  streaming  from  her  own  pretty  eyes. 

Paul  having  administered  the  potion  to  his  son, 
said,  with  much  complacency,  as  ho  laid  his  head 
back  on  the  pillow:  "There  now,  you  unhappy 
■wretch  of  a  woman,  you'll  see  he'll  go  to  sleep  now. 
Just  let  him  alone,  an'  go  an'  mind  your  business." 


And 

where 

return 

over  1; 

ed  to 

deep  a 

materi 

and  Ji 

who  p 

to  whi 

sentlm 

pen  be 

Eolatio 

of  Jam 

she  hei 

allowc' 

ble  th( 

their  i 

nestlinj 

went  tl 

been  I 

wouldr 

out  a  s! 

the  drii 

or  ratt 

Nora's 

too,  we 

the  sicl 

her  sea 

was  tall 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


>€h 


lady — Bare  it's 

Nora,  he  must 
/ill  do  bitn  no 
3  botberin'  mo 
ion't  you  want 
over  the  sense- 

lame  dislinclly 

ps,  held  by  the 

her,  while  the 

away,  crying : 

h.  Lord !  you'll 

"  don't  you  see 
honey — I  tell 

less,  wrung  her 
low  seat  at  the 
ag  up  a  piteous 

such  distress, 
irm  around  her 
It  way,  though 
wn  pretty  eyes, 
tion  to  his  son, 
)  laid  his  head 

you  unhappy 
;o  to  sleep  now. 
your  business." 


And  with  that  he  resumed  his  place  at  the  table, 
where  the  game  had  been  standing  still  awaiting  his 
return.     When  he  was  gone  his  wife  arose  and  bent 
over  her  son,  who  had  really  sunk  into  what  appear- 
ed to  her  a  profound  slumber.     His  breathing  was 
deep  and  heavy,  but  sufficiently  regular  to  allay  the 
maternal  fears  of  poor  Nora.     The  night  wore  on, 
and  Jane  put  the  children  to  bed,  all  except  Patsey, 
who  petitioned  to  be  left  up  with  his  sick  brother, 
to  which  his  mother  consented,  having  a  strange  pre- 
sentiment  at  her  heart  that  something  was  to  hap- 
pen before  morning.    In  the  utter  loneliness  and  de- 
solation of  the  moment,  it  seemed  as  if  the  company 
of  Jane  and  Patsey  was  all  she  had  to  rely  upon,  and 
she  heard  with  satisfaction  the  boy's  request  to  be 
allowed  to  sit  up.    The  two  children  seemed  sensi- 
ble themselves  that  there  was  a  load  of  sorrow  on 
their  mother's  heart,  for  they  sat  silent  as  death, 
nestling  on  the  floor  close  by  her  side.     On  and  on 
went  the  carouse  at  the  table,  though  the  cards  had 
been  latterly  laid  aside,  Paul  protesting  that  he 
wouldn't  turn  another  card  because  he  was  left  with- 
out a  shilling  in  his  pocket.     But  on  and  still  on  went 
the  drinking  and  cursing,  song  after  song  being  sung, 
or  rather  shouted,  to  the  excruciating  torment  of 
Nora's  aching  head  and  breakirg  heart.     On  and  on, 
too,  went  the  deep  breathing,  or  rather  snoring  of 
the  sick  boy,  his  mother  ever  and  anon  rising  from 
her  seat  in  order  to  ascertain  whether  any  change 
was  taking  place,  and  at  last,  just  as  the  clock  of  a 


^  CON  o'reoan  ;  OR, 

neigbboring  cburcb  told  the  firBt  hour  of  moruing, 
she  noticed  with  terror  that  such  was  really  the  caae. 
The  soft,  regular  breathing  had  turned  to  a  violent 
heaving  of  the  chest;  the  lower  jaw  had  fallen  so  as 
to  leave  the  mouth  wide  open,  and  the  nose  had  as- 
sumed that  pinched  look  which  too  surely  indicates 
approaching  dissolution.    Wildly  uplifting  the  edge 
of  the  bandage  which  covered  the  lower  part  of  the 
brow,  the  poor  mother  paw  with  horror  that  her  son's 
eyes  were  open,  but  glazed  and  motionless,  and  the 
dreadful  thought  flashed  upon  her  mind  that  her 
beautiful  boy,  the  pride  of  her  heart,  was  dying.    In 
her  agony,  she  shrieked  out,  "Paul!  Paul!  he's  dy- 
ing—run  Some  of  you  for  a  doctor." 

Paul  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment,  and  the  one 
look  which  he  cast  on  the  deathlike  face  before  him, 
sobered  him  effectually.  Like  a  madman  he  rushed 
to  the  dooi  and  up  the  steps,  not  waiting  even  to  put 
on  his  hat.  The  other  men  were  almost  as  fright- 
ened as  himself,  and  one  or  two  of  them  would  fain 
have  assisted  Nora  in  chafing  the  boy's  stiffening 
limbs,  but  the  poor  mother  motioned  them  away, 
for  her  soul  loathed  these  drunken  associates  of  her 
wretched  husband. 

"  Keep  off,  every  one  of  you,"  she  cried,  as  with 
frenzied  eagerness  she  continued  her  hopeless  task, 
looking  ever  and  anon  at  the  distorted  face,  in  hopes 
of  seeing  even  a  shade  of  consciousness ;  "  don't 
touch  him— I  tell  you  don't  lay  a  finger  on  him; 
he's  going  before  his  Qod  without  the  chanoo  of 


sayin' 

unfort 

only  s 

no — n< 

he  nev 

at  all ; 

them ! 

poor  t 

shiver 

Buddei 

then  a 

was  g 

sank  c 

have  n 

— oh,  r 

child  !' 

nature 

that  tfa 

mothei 

Just 

his  fac( 

masses 

"He 

"  that 

called  1 

brat  m 

be — w< 

shut  th 

a  stone 

the  otb 


ur  of  morfling, 
really  the  case. 
ad  to  a  violent 
bad  fallen  so  as 
le  nose  had  as- 
mrely  indicates 
lifting  the  edge 
wer  part  of  the 
)r  that  her  son's 
onless,  and  the 
mind  that  her 
was  dying.  In 
Paul !  he's  dy- 

nt,  and  the  one 
face  before  him, 
dman  he  rushed 
ting  even  to  put 
Imost  as  fright- 
,hera  would  fain 
boy's  stiffening 
aed  them  away, 
issociates  of  her 

16  cried,  as  with 
er  hopeless  task, 
ed  face,  in  hopes 
Qusness ;  "  don't 
i  finger  on  him; 
t  the  chance  of 


EMIORANT  UFK  IN  THB  NEW  WORLD.  M 

Bayin' '  Lord  have  mercy  on  me,'  and  all  from  your 
unfortunate  gin.  Ob,  my  God  I  my  God  !  if  you'd 
only  spare  him  to  get  the  rites  of  the  Church  ;  but 
no— no— oh  !  he's  goin'— he's  goin' ;  och  !  och  !  will 
he  never  come  with  the  doctor  ?  what's  keepin'  him 
at  all  ?  Jane,  Patsey,  run,  run  an'  see  what's  keepin' 
them !"  Hero  one  long,  painful  moan  escaped  the 
poor  sufferer's  blue  lips — a  few  convulsive  gasps,  a 
shiver  ran  through  the  whole  body,  the  legs  were 
suddenly  drawn  up  and  then  stretched  at  full  length, 
then  a  long,  deep  breath,  and  all  was  still.  A  soul 
was  gone  to  its  account,  and  the  hapless  mother 
sank  on  her  knees  beside  the  corpse,  crying  "Lord 
have  mercy  on  him !  Mother  of  God  pray  for  him 
— oh,  mercy  I  mercy — Christ  have  mercy  on  my  poor 
child  I"  It  was  the  agony  of  faith  as  well  as  of 
nature.  The  two  children  wept  aloud,  for  they  knew 
that  their  brother  was  dead — they  knew  it  by  their 
mother's  wild,  prayerful  sorrow. 

Just  then  Paul  threw  open  the  door  and  rushed  in, 
his  face  pale  as  death,  and  his  hair  hanging  in  thick 
masses  over  his  eyes. 

"  How  is  he  now  ?"  he  cried,  approaching  the  bed ; 
"  that  hell-hound  of  a  doctor  wouldn't  come ;  he 

called  me  a  d d  drunken  Irishman,  and  said  the 

brat  might  die  and  welcome  for  all  the  loss  it  would 
be — well  for  him,  he  pulled  in  his  head  so  soon  and 
shut  the  window,  for  I'd  have  brained  the  fellow  with 
a  stone.  There's  another  lives  a  block  or  two  up 
the  other  way,  an'  I  ran  in  to  see  how  he  is  before  I 


gA  CON  o'began  ;  OB, 

go  anv  farther.     But  what's  this,  Nora-is  he  deal  f 
—is  he  dead,  woman  ?    Why  don't  you  speak  ?" 

"  He  is  dead,  Paul,"  replied  the  heart-broken  mo- 
ther, raising  herself  with  difficulty,  and  fixing  a  cold 
reproachful  eye  on  her  husband.     "  He  is  dead ;  as 
dead  aa  ever  you  or  I'll  be.    Ho  needs  no  doctor 
now.    You  sent  him  home  fast  enough   at   last. 
Poor  man !  poor  man !"  she  added,  her  voice  assum- 
ing a  somewhat  softer  tone,   "  there's  no  use  in 
blamiu'  you— you  hardiy  knew  what  you  were  doin' 
at  the  time— but  och !  och !  I  wouldn't  be  in  your 
place  for  all  the  world— ray  own  is  bad  enough- 
God  He  knows  that."    She  then  stooped  and  closed 
her  son's  mouth  and  eyes  with  surprising  calmneBS, 
then  kissed  his  lips  and  brow,  and  all  without  drop- 
ping a  single  tear,  while  all  around  her  was  tears 
and  sobs.    Even  the  hardened  drunkards  who  stood 
by  could  not  help  sympathizing  in  this  heavy  cala- 
mity; and,  as  for  Paul,  his  grief  knew  no  bounds. 
He  very  naturally  reproached  himself  for  liaving  at 
least  hastened  the  death  of  his  favorite  child,  and 
hence  it  was  that,  like  Rachel,  he  would  not  be 
comforted.     "My  son  is  dead,  and  I  have  killed 
■  him !"  was  the  only  answer  he  vouchsafed  to  his 
late  boon  companions  when  they  tried  to  comfort 
him.    At  last  ho  worked  himself  into  a  kind  of 
phrenzy,  and  seizing  hold  of  two  of  the  men,  one 
with  either  hand,  he  shook  them  violently.     "  Only 
for  you,"  he  said,  or  rather  shouted,  "  only  for  yoa 
and  your  cursed  drink,  my  boy  might  be  alive  yet. 


Clea 
me  8 
off  r 
Borrj 

'M 
for  t 
won( 
you  1 

"1 
their 
you  ' 

Fo 
men, 
were 
appei 
assist 
corps 
who 
labor 

"I 
pitial 

"Ii 
hand 
Godl 
Dear 
you  1 
that  I 

"H 
Mrs. 
his  aj 


■MIORAXT  I.irt  IN  THE  NRW  WORLD. 


«t 


—is  he  cleal  f 
u  speak  ?" 
rt-broken  mo- 
l  fixing  a  cold 
le  is  dead ;  a» 
eds  no  doctor 
ough  at   last, 
r  voice  assum- 
e's  no  use  in 
row  were  doin* 
n't  be  in  your 
bad  enough — 
ped  and  closed 
sing  calmneBB, 
without  drop- 
her  was  tears 
irds  who  stood 
lis  heavy  cala- 
ew  no  bounds. 
If  for  having  at 
jrite  child,  and 
would  not  be 
I  I  have  killed 
lohsafed  to  his 
led  to  comfort 
nto  a  kind  of 
f  the  men,  one 
)lently.     "  Only 
,  "  only  for  yoa 
;ht  be  alive  yet. 


Clear  out,  every  mother's  son  of  you,  and  never  let 
me  see  the  face  ot  one  of  you  inside  my  door.  Be 
off  now,  or  I  might  be  tempted  to  do  what  I'd  be 
Borry  for  doin'  in  my  own  house." 

"Wo  will,  Paul— we  will,"  said  one,  answering 
for  the  others ;  "  God  help  you,  poor  man,  it's  no 
wonder  you'd  be  out  of  your  mind— God  comfort 
you  and  your  poor  wife,  this  sorrowful  night." 

"  No,  no,  Paul,"  said  another,  as  they  all  took  up 
their  hats,  "  we'll  not  stay  a  minute  longer  thaa 
you  wish." 

Fortunately  for  the  poor  afflicted  Bergens,  these 
men,  with  all  their  faults,  had  Irish  hearts,  for  they 
were  not  long  gone  when  two  women  made  their 
appearance,  sent  by  their  respective  husbands  to 
assist  Mrs.  Bergen  in  the  sad  task  of  laying  out  the 
corpse.  This  was  a  great  relief  to  the  poor  woman, 
who  would  otherwise  have  had  the  whole  dismal 
labor  to  herself. 

"  I'll  give  you  a  hand  at  any  rate,"  said  she,  with 
pitiable  calmness— the  calmness  of  despair. 

"  Indeed,  then,  you'll  not,  Mrs.  Bergen— the  sorra 
hand  you'll  lay  on  him— your  load  is  heavy  enough. 
God  knows,  poor  woman,  without  havin'  that  to  do, 
Dear  knows,  but  it  was  the  heart-scald  all  out  for 
you  to  have  them  drunken  vagabonds  of  ours,  an» 
that  Jack  Duigenan  in  on  you  at  such  a  time." 

"Her  own  husband  was  worse  than  any  of  them, 
Mrs.  Tierney,"  said  Paul,  rousing  himself  from 
his  apparent  lethargy ;  "  there's  not  such  a  bruU 


|§  CON  o'RRaAX  ;  or. 

livin'  this  night  aa  Paul  Bergen,  au'  that  woman 
there  before  you-that  Nora  Bergen  that  you  sea 
there— is  just  the  mo3t  miserable  poor  woman  in- 
side the  city-search  it  all  round.  But  this  night 
will  settle  all  that.  With  the  help  of  Almighty 
God,  they'll  have  good  eyes  that'll  ever  see  me  taste 
a  drop  agaia— neither  gin,  ale,  nor  brandy  shall 
ever  cross  ray  lips,  so  lor-  as  God  leaves  me  hie. 
Do  you  hear  me,  Nora?" 

"  I. do,  Paul,  I  do,"  said  Nora,  in  the  same  listless 
tone,  and  without  raising  her  head.  It  was  clear 
she  had  not  much  faith  in  the  promise,  solemnly  and 
fervently  as  it  was  made.  Poor  Nora  Bergen  had 
heard  but  too  many  such  promises  made  of  late 
years  without  any  permanent  improvement  in  Paul'a 

habits. 

When  Con  O'Regan  went  to  his  dinner  next  day, 
he  was  met  on  the  way  by  one  of  his  acquaintances, 
who  told  him  of  what  had  happened.  Con  was 
very  much  shocked  on  hearing  of  poor  Peter  Ber- 
gen's death,  and  as  soon  as  he  could  get  away  in 
the  evening,  he  went  to  Mr.  Coulter's  to  see  if 
Winny  would  go  with  him  to  the  wake.  Winny 
had  not  even  heard  of  the  boy's  death,  and  her 
heart  was  sore  for  the  poor  mother  already  bent  to 
the  earth  with  manifold  afBiclion. 

"  Lord  bless  me.  Con  dear,  how  did  it  happen,  9t 
Btl  ?"  said  she;  "  was  he  sick,  or  was  it  an  accident, 

or  what  ?" 

"  Not  a  know  I  know,  Winny,  only  that  when  I 


went 
in  a  \ 
woul 
some 
and  s 
once 
"C 
thont 
she's 
knew 

I'll  ji 
you  f 

Aw 
famil; 
ter  w 
and  i 
com  ft 
husba 
oonte 
one  f 
the  1< 
pileo 
whicl] 
book) 

"If 
open 
go  ou 
a  friei 
wiihl 


EHIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  N'EW  WORLD. 


ft9 


that  woman 
that  you  sea 
)!•  woman  in- 
ut  this  night 
of  Almighty 
r  see  me  taste 
brandy  shall 
eaves  me  life. 

B  same  listless 
It  was  clear 

,  solemnly  and 

•a  Bergen  had 
made  of  late 

mont  in  Paul's 

nner  next  day, 
acquaintaneeH, 
led.  Con  was 
oor  Peter  Ber- 
d  get  away  in 
er's  to  see  if 
wake.  Winny 
death,  and  her 
already  bent  to 

id  it  happen,  ^ 
i  it  an  accident, 

oly  that  when  I 


went  in  there  last  night,  poor  Mrs.  Bergen  told  me 
in  a  whisper  that  Peter  was  very  bad  w4th  her — she 
wouldn't  let  mo  stay  a  minute,  because  Paul  and 
some  other  men  were  drinkin'  and  playin'  cards, 
and  she  was  afeard  I  couldn't  well  get  away  if  they 
once  got  a  sight  of  me." 

"  God  bless  her,"  said  Winny,  fervently  ;  « it's  a 
thousand  pities  to  see  her  amongst  such  a  set,  for 
she's  a  decent,  well-conducted  woman,  as  ever  I 
knew,  at  home  or  abroad.  If  you  sit  down  a  minnit 
I'll  just  run  up  and  see  if  missis  will  let  me  {tq  with 
you  for  an  hour  or  two." 

Away  went  Winny  to  the  front  parlor,  where  the 
family  were  all  assembled  after  supper.  Mrs.  Coul- 
ter was  seated  in  a  rooking-ohair,  swaying  herself  to 
and  fro  iu  perpetual  motion,  while  she  fabricated  a 
comforter  with  large  wooden  knitting-pins.  Her 
husband  sat  right  opposite,  deeply  immersed  in  the 
contents  of  the  evening  paper.  Their  two  daughters, 
one  fourteen  and  the  other  eleven,  were  studying 
the  lessons  of  the  morrow,  each  with  a  formidable 
pile  of  books  before  her,  some  of  them  of  dimensions 
which  would  have  frightened  our  simple  and  less 
bookish  ancestors. 

"  If  you  please,  ma'am,"  said  Winny,  holding  the 
open  door  by  the  handle,  "  would  you  just  let  me 
go  out  for  an  hour  or  two  with  my  brother  ?  There's 
a  friend  of  ours»that  has  a  little  boy  dead,  and  we'd 
wish  to  go  to  the  wake  awhile.    I've  the  tea-things 


"^  I 


10 


OOK  o'regan  ;  OR, 


•11  washed  up,  ma'am,  and  Leah  says  she'll  do  any- 
thing you  may  want  done  till  I  come  back." 

"  But  these  x/akes,  Winny,"  said  Mrs.  Coulter, 
very  gravely,  "  I  have  always  heard  that  they  are 
very  bad,  indeed.  I  have  never  allowed  any  of  my 
Irish  help  to  attend  wakes,  and  I  really  fear  I  must 
refuse.  I  don't  see  why  you  Irish  will  keep  up  these 
old  heathenish  practices  in  a  civilized  country." 

"  Well,  ma'am,  it's  an  old  custom  at  home,"  re- 
turned Winny,  hardly  able  to  keep  in  her  tears, "  and 
we  can't  give  it  up  here  where  we're  all  amongst 
strangers,  as  one  may  say.  Death  is  always  lone- 
some, ma'am,  and  it's  a  kind  of  a  comfort  to  them 
that  has  it  in  the  house  to  see  their  friends  about 
them.  But  I  suppose  I'm  not  to  go,  m&'am,  so  I 
may  let  Con  go  by  himself?" 

"No,  you  shan't,  Winny,"  said  Mr.  Coulter, 
speaking  for  the  first  time ;  "  Mrs.  Coulter,  ma'am, 
you'll  oblige  me  by  allowing  Winny  to  go." 

The  girls,  too,  chimed  in  to  the  same  tune,  for 
they  both  liked  the  gentle,  good-natured  Irish  girl, 
and  Mrs.  Coulter  was  forced  to  yield,  though  she 
did  it  with  a  very  bad  grace.  "  You  may  go  then 
for  this  time,"  said  she  to  Winny,  "  but  remember 
you  must  never  ask  to  go  to  another  wake  so  long 
as  you  are  in  my  family." 

"  If  I  can  help  it  I  won't,  ma'am,"  said  Winny, 
with  quiet  humor  as  she  closed  the  door  and  with- 
drew. Leaving  her  master  and  mistress  to  talk  the 
matter  over  at  their  leisure,  let  us  follow  Winny 


and 

som( 

asset 

Paul 

bacoi 

own 

wall 

tures 

sheet 

last  ; 

in  th( 

poses 

ende£ 

linen 

prese 

btronj 

or  m( 

berea 

oasua! 

spoke 

No 

sat  w 

rockir 

pracli 

and  h( 

*ao 

ii  of  frc 
toHend 
oandlei 
■nohoc 


he'll  do  any- 

.ack." 

drs.  Coulter, 

,hat  they  are 

ed  any  of  my 

y  fear  I  must 

keep  up  these 

jountry." 

at  home,"  re- 

er  tears, "  and 

)  all  amongst 

always  lone- 
ifort  to  them 

friends  about 
,  m&'am,  so  I 

Mr.  Coulter, 
3ulter,  ma'am, 

0  go." 

ime  tune,  for 
red  Irish  girl, 
d,  though  she 

1  may  go  then 
l)ut  remember 
wake  80  long 

"  said  Winny, 
ioor  and  with- 
ess  to  talk  the 
foUow  Winny 


■MIORANT  LIFB  IN  THE  NKW  WORLD. 


n 


and  her  brother  to  the  Jjouse  of  death.    They  found 
some  six  or  eight  men  and  nearly  as  many  women 
assembled  in  Paul  Bergen's  subterraneous  residence. 
Paul  himself  was  just  placing  some  pipes  and  to- 
bacco on  a  table,  and  Nora  sat  at  the  head  of  her 
own  bed  whereon  the  corpse  was  laid  out.     The 
wall  beyond  the  bed  was  hung  with  religious  nio- 
tures,  furnished  by  the  neighbor  women,  and  the 
sheets  on  the  bed  were  of  well-bleached  linen,  the 
last  poor  remains  of  some  comfortable  homestead 
in  the  old  country,  carefully  treasured  for  such  pur- 
poses  as  the  present,  for  the  Irish  peasantry  always 
endeavor,  if  possible,  to  have,  or  at  least  procure, 
linen  sheets  for  laying  out  their  dead.*    Every  one 
present  seemed  grave    and  collected,  under   the 
strong  impression  that  this  was  no  time  for  laughter 
or  merriment.     All  sympathized  deeply  with  the 
bereaved  parents,  and  if  any  one  volunteered  some 
casual  remark  on  an  indifferent  subject,  it  was 
spoken  in  an  under  tone. 

Nora  seemed  utterly  heedless  of  all  around,  and 
sat  with  her  clasped  hands  resting  on  her  knees, 
rocking  herself  to  and  fro  in  that  peculiar  way 
practised  by  Irish  mourners,  her  eyes  cast  down 
and  her  lips  firmly  compressed  as  though  to  keep  iu 

*  Bo  common  nnd  so  well  recogolzed  is  this  practioe,  that  it 
is  of  freqaent  occurrence  in  all  parts  of  Ireknd  for  the  realthy 
to  «end  every  article  required,  linen  sheets  and  pillow-cases, 
oandlesllcks,  Ac,  to  accommodate  their  poorer  neighbors  on 
noh  occasions,  and  enable  them  to  lay  out  the  corpse  deeeatly 


IS 


CON   O^REOAN  :    OR, 


the  wild  bnrst  of  sorrow  that  her  heart  ever  and 
anon  dictated.  The  entrance  of  Con  and  Winny, 
however,  attracted  her  attention,  for  she  could  not 
avoid  hearing  Paul  as  he  accosted  them  by  name. 
Raising  her  heavy  eyes  to  Winny's  face  she  was 
touched  by  her  look  of  heartfelt  sympathy,  and 
reaching  out  her  hand  to  her  she  bmst  into  a  hyste- 
rical fit  of  weeping  as  she  pointed  to  the  bed. 
Winny  and  her  brother  knelt  by  the  bed-side  to 
offer  up  a  prayer  for  the  departed  soul,  and  having 
discharged  that  pious  duty  they  took  their  plaoea 
in  silence.    By  and  by  Mrs  Bergen  said  to  Con : 

"  Won't  you  oome  and  look  at  him,  Con  ? — you 
never  had  a  sight  of  him  when  he  was  livin',  for  he 
■wasn't  in  the  house  the  day  you  were  here,  and  last 
night  you  didn't  see  him  either."     As  she  spoke  she 
raised  the  thin  muslin  covering  from  off  the  face, 
and  Con   and  Winny  were  both  struck  with  the 
uncommon  beauty  of  the  boy.     His  face  was  like 
that  of  a  fair  statue  lying  in  the  still  attitude  of 
death,  and  his  long  dark  hair  was  oprefully  combed 
back,  leaving  a  high,  well-formed  ijrehead  visible. 
It  was  a  brow  that  a  phrenologist  would  have  loved 
to  look  upon,  but  its  fair  smooth  surface  was  marred 
and  broken  by  a  gaping,  unseemly  out  on  the  left 
temple.    Neither  Winny  nor    her   brother    could 
restrain  their  tears  as  they  gazed,  and  the  deep  sob* 
of  the  remorseful  father  were  heard  from  behind. 
No  one  spoke  for  a  mcment,  till  at  length  Coo 
obterTed : 


If 

moi 
Pet 
dea 
A 
clot 
her 
poo 
the 
mak 

a  lo 

(I 

alw£ 

too, 

low- 

with 

was 

wor] 

to  Ic 

of  hi 

it  wi 

day 

from 

com! 

vaga 

Woul 

jp  a 

It  sti 

WOUI 


lUIOBANT  UFK  IN  THE  NKW  WORLD, 


n 


irt  ever  and 
and  Winny, 
be  could  not 
jm  by  name, 
face  she  was 
mpathy,  and 
into  a  hyste- 
to  the  bed. 
I  bcd-Bide  to 
il,  and  having 
their  places 
d  to  Con : 
1,  Con  ? — you 
livin',  for  he 
here,  and  last 
she  spoke  she 
off  the  face, 
uck  with  the 
face  was  like 
1  attitude  of 
efully  combed 
ehead  visible, 
tld  have  loved 
ce  was  marred 
lit  on  the  left 
jrother    could 
the  deep  sobs 
i  from  behind, 
t  length  Oon 


"  He  was  very  like  yourself,  Mrs.  Bergen." 
"  Like  what  I  once  was,"  she  answered,  with  a 
mournful  smile,  "  but  far,  far  purtier.  Oh,  Peter  ! 
Peter!  it  can't  be  you  that's  lyin'  there— dead- 
dead— and  that  ugly  wound  on  your  poor  forehead  I" 
A  IVesh  burst  of  weeping  followed.  She  let  tha 
cloth  fall  on  the  dead  face,  and  sank  once  more  into 
her  seat.  Con  then  ventured  to  ask  Paul  how  th« 
poor  boy  liad  come  by  his  death.  Paul  was  saved 
the  painful  task  of  answering  by  Larry  Tierney,  who, 
making  an  admonitory  gesture  to  Con,  gave  him,  in 
a  low  voice,  the  desired  information. 

"Tou  see,"  said  he,  "poor  Peter  was  ever  and 
always  a  stirrin'  lad-and  full  of  good-nature  he  wae, 
too,  they  toll  me,  au'  the  makin'  of  a  fine,  clever  fel- 
low— but  still,  as  I  was  sayin',  he  had  a  stirrin'  way 
with  him,  an'  was  sure  to  be  into  any  mischief  that 
was  goin'— well,  the  way  that  it  is  with  us  poor 
workin'  people  here  in  the  city,  we  have  no  great  time 
to  look  after  our  children,  and  poor  Peter  was  most 
of  his  time  on  the  streets,  where  you  may  guess  that 
it  wasn't  the  best  company  he  took  up  with.     The 
day  that  he  got  this  unlucky  blow  he  had  been  out 
from  the  time  he  got  his  breakfast  in  the  mornin',  and 
comin'  on  the  evenin',  he  got  a  squabblin'  with  some 
vagabond  boys  about  something  or  another,  an'  what 
would  you  have  of  it  but  one  of  the  young  imps  took 
ap  a  sharp  stone  and  flung  it  right  at  Peter's  head. 
It  struck  him  on  the  temple  there  where  you  saw  the 
wound,  an'  the  poor  fellow  dropped  down  dead,  aa 


'r4 


CON   O'RKfcKtf  ;    OR, 


every  one  thonght.  But  he  wasn't  dead,  for  he  came 
to  himself  while  the  wound  was  a-dressing,  and  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  a  swill  of  gin  that  poor  Paul  gave 
him  when  he  was  in  his  cups  last  night,  he  miglit 
have  lived,  for  the  doctor  that  he  was  taken  to  before 
he  was  brought  home,  examined  the  wound,  an'  said 
it  would  hardly  kill  him.  So  you  see  it's  a  bad  busi- 
ness altogether." 

"  Bad  enough,  indeed,"  said  Con,  while  Winny, 
•who  had  been  also  a  listener,  wiped  away  the  big 
tears  that  would  not  be  kept  in, — "  tell  me  this, 
honest  man,  do  you  think  Paul  has  enough  to  bury 
the  child  ?" 

"  I'm  afeard  not,"  said  Larry,  with  a  rueful  shake 
of  the  head.  He  then  proceeded  to  inform  Con  how 
Paul  had  been  fined  for  that  unlucky  affair  at  the 
dance,  and  how  he  spent  most  of  what  he  earned 
*'  very  foolishly,"  but  Larry  did  not  tell  how  he  him- 
self had  won  nearly  two  dollars  of  the  residue  of 
Paul's  funds  on  the  previous  night.  Another  man 
here  interposed,  and  told  Con  in  the  same  cautious 
tone  that  they  were  aaking  up  enough  to  pay  the 
expenses  of  the  funeral.  "  It's  all  amongst  ourselves, 
you  know,"  said  he,  "  and  we  have  nearly  what  we 
want  now.  Not  one  has  refused  us  yet  only  that 
rap  Phil  McDermot — an'  it  ill  became  him  to  refuse, 
the  white-livered  spalpeen — him  that  has  got  so 
much  of  poor  Paul's  hard  earnin'  in  his  time."  Ha 
had  unconsciously  raised  bis  voioe  in  giving  utter- 
ance to  this  philippic. 


"  wlia 

"O 

friend 

afler  i 

counti 

Pau 

the  fui 

in  the 

headb( 

Paul  I 

that  I 

oharac 

direct! 

shilling 

was  tbi 

"  An'  V 

that  n 

made  n 

my  poc 

and  nol 

McD 

meant, 

offence, 

and  lef 

offering 

■hape  0 


a(l,  for  he  came 
ssing,  and  if  it 
oor  Paul  gave 
ight,  he  might 
;aken  to  before 
round,  an'  said 
it's  a  bad  busi- 

while  Winny, 
I  away  the  big 
"  tell  me  this, 
nough  to  bury 

a  rueful  shake 
iform  Con  hovir 
:y  affair  at  the 
'hat  he  earned 
bII  how  he  him- 
tbe  residue  of 
Another  man 
I  same  cautious 
ugh  to  pay  the 
ngst  ourselves, 
learly  what  we 
1  yet  only  that 
B  hint  to  refuse, 
at  has  got  so 
his  time."  Ha 
in  giving  ntter- 


EMrCHANT  MFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


T» 


"What's  that  you  say?"  said  Paul  Bergen; 
"  what  about  Phil  McDermot  ?" 

"Oh!  nothing  worth  speakin'  of,"  replied  his 
friend ;  "  a  decent  man  ought  to  wipe  his  mouth 
after  mentionin'  his  name— he's  a  disgrace  to  the 
country  he  came  from,  so  he  is  !" 

Paul  inquired  no  further  at  that  time,  but  when 
the  funeral  was  over,  and  poor  Peter  laid  decently 
m  the  Catholic  burying-ground  with  a  little  white 
headboard  bearing  his  name  and  age  in  black  letters, 
Paul  made  it  his  business  to  find  out  what  it  was 
that  Phil  McDermot  had   done  to  merit  such  a 
character.     On  hearmg  what  had  happened,  he  went 
directly  and  paid  that  respectable  individual  a  few 
shillings  which  he  owed  him,  assuring  him  that  that 
was  the  last  money  he  should  ever  receive  from  him 
"An'  withal,"  said  he,  "you  have  given  me  a  lesson 
that  I'll  never  forget.     Sorrow  and  misfortune  have 
made  me  a  wise  man,  and  for  the  time  to  come  it's 
my  poor  family  that'll  get  the  good  of  my  earnings, 
and  not  the  likes  of  you." 

McDermot  would  have  inquired  what  all  this 
meant,  declaring  himself  innocent  of  any  intentional 
offence,  but  Paul  would  not  hear  a  word  from  him, 
and  left  the  house,  indignantly  refusing  the  peace- 
offering  which  Phil  would  have  had  him  take  in  th« 
■hape  of  "  a  glass." 


t« 


CON  o'resan  ;  oa. 


I 

aa 
ing 
•wit 
wai 


CHAPTER  V. 

About  a  week  after  the  death  of  Peter  Bergen, 
Mr.  Coulter  on  returning  from  dinner  one  day  told 
Con  that  Winny  wished  to  see  him  immediately. 

"  To  see  me,"  repeated  Con,  in  a  faint  voice ; 
"  why,  sir,  is  there  anything  wrong  with  her?" 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Con,"  said  his  employer,  in 
a  kind  tone;  "  I  believe  there  is  nothing  serious,  but 
she  don't  feel  very  weH,  and — and — in  fact,  she 
thinks  of  going  to  the  hospital !".  The  worthy  man's 
hesitation  proceeded  from  his  unwillingness  to  tell 
what  was  really  the  case,  that  his  wife  insisted  on 
Winny's  removal  without  delay.  His  own  kind 
heart  recoiled  from  the  idea  of  sending  to  an  hospi- 
tal the  girl  who  bad  served  them  so  faithfully  for 
four  years,  especially  as  her  disease  had  nothing  in 
it  that  could  excite  fear  of  infection. 

"  To  the  hospital,  sir  I"  cried  Con,  his  face  pale  as 
•shes,  for  the  Irish  people  have,  above  all  others,  an 
instinctive  horror  of  hospitals ;  "  oh,  then  indeed, 
it's  low  enough  Winny  is  when  she'd  go  to  an  hos* 
pital.  May  I  go  now,  if  you  please,  sirf 
"  Certainly,  Con ;  go  as  soon  as  you  can." 


I 

Co 
wa 
an( 

rec 

< 

W 

wa 
{ 
int 
kit 
inf 
lie 
6v 
ha 
to 
W 

vo 

* 
m« 

ro; 

di 

w< 

g« 


KMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


It 


Peter  Bergen, 
ir  one  day  told 
nmediately. 
a  faint  voice; 
ithher?" 
is  employer,  in 
ng  serious,  but 
[ — in  fact,  she 
e  worthy  man'a 
lingncss  to  tell 
ife  insisted  on 
His  own  kind 
ng  to  an  hoapi- 

0  faithfully  for 
bad  nothing  in 

his  face  pale  as 
re  all  others,  an 
),  then  indeed, 

1  go  to  an  hoB« 

sirT 


Poor  Con  could  hardly  wait  to  fetch  his  hat  from 
an  inner  room,  but  having  secured  it,  he  was  hasten- 
ing away  with  a  heart  full  of  sorrow,  and  throbbing 
with  impatience  to  se'o  Winny,  when  at  the  door  he 
was  tnet  Toy  Mr.  Wood,  who  accosted  him  with  : 
"  What's  all  this,  O'Regan— where  are  you  going?" 
"  I'm  gbin'  down  to  Mr.  Coulter's,  sir,"  replied 
Con,  eirasively ;  "  he  sent  me  himself;''  and  without 
waiting  for  further  interrogation,  he  brushed  past 
and  was  some  way  down  the  street  before  Mr.  Wood 
recovered  from  his  surprise. 

"What  a  confounded  smart  chap  he  is!"  was 
Wood's  mental  soliloquy,  "  one  would  suppose  he 
was  running  for  a  wager." 

On  reaching  the  house,  Con  was  ushered  by  Leah 
into  a  small  room,  or  rather  closet  adjoining  the 
kitchen,  where  he  found  his  sister  in  bed,  and  look- 
ing so  pale  and  emaciated  that  he  could  hardly  be- 
lieve it  to  be  the  same  Winny  he  had  seen  foax  or 
five  days  before.  But  when  Winny  held  out  her 
hand  to  him  with  that  sweet  mournful  smile  peculiar 
to  herself,  he  burst  into  tears  and  cried :  "  Wiuny, 
Winny,  what's  come  over  you  at  all?" 

"  Sit  down  there  on  that  chair,  Con,  tnd  I'll  tell 
vou.  There's  something  gatherin'  on  we  this  twel'- 
month  and  better — something  like  a  smotherin'  on 
my  chest,  an'  a  great  pain  in  my  left  side — still  I 
didn't  like  to  tell  you,  because  I  was  in  hopeb  it 
would  \^fli!ff.-awaj«J)Ut  instead  o'  that,  it's  what  it's 


u  can. 


i» 


gettin'  ]| 


day,  an'  this  last  weak  I 


«8 


CON   0  UEOAN  :   OR, 


have  hardly  had  a  minute's  peace.  Tlie  mistress 
used  to  say  all  along  that  it  was  only  imagination, 
and  Bomelimos  she'd  tell  me  it  was  making  believe  I 
was — that's  what  we  call  schemin',  Con,  but  since  I  had 
to  take  to  w/  hod  entirely — that  wa^  last  night — her 
whole  trouble  is  to  get  me  away  to  the  hospital,  for, 
even  if  it's  nothing  taking  I  havt  ,  she  says  there's 
no  way  here  for  me,  and  that  I  mu!?t  get  off  this 
very  day,  for  she  wants  to  get  in  another  girl  in  my 
place." 

Con's  tears  had  not  ceased  to  flow  during  this  re- 
cital, protracted  as  it  was  by  the  many  breaks  which 
Winny's  weakness  rendered  necessary.  "  The  master 
said  something,"  said  he,  "  about  you  going  to  the 
hospital,  but  he  cut  it  very  short,  and  sent  me  off 
here  to  you." 

"  Ah !  the  blessing  of  God  be  about  him  now  and 
forever,"  said  Wiuny  with  moiitcaed  eyes,  "  it  isn't 
with  his  will  I'm  going  to  the  hospital.  Leah  tells 
me  that  himself  and  the  mistress  had  a  great  debate 
about  it,  and  he  told  her  it  was  a  burnin'  shame  to 
send  me  out,  but  at  last  he  had  to  give  in,  for  she 
took  on  at  a  great  rate,  and  then,  when  he  could  do 
no  better,  he  came  and  bid  me  good-bye,  and  slipped 
this  ten  dollar  bill  into  my  hand  to  help  to  pay  my 
expenses  in  the  hospital.  If  he  was  one  of  ourselves, 
a  thousand  times  over,  he  couldn't  be  kinder  than  he 
is  and  has  been  to  me, — and  mind.  Con,  I  lay  it  on 
you,  whether  I  live  or  die,  that  you'll  do  Mr.  Coulter 
a  good  tarn  if  eve'  you  have  it  in  your  power.'' 


T 

Wii 

ter 

frici 

Wii 

tioE 

me. 

you 
it  a 
live 
ban 
the 
tha 
firs 

r 

Bpt 

ed 
hal 
W 

is  i 

( 

aft 
wl 
ha 
th( 
"I 
m( 
an 


tyU^P/""    LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


n 


le  mistresfl 
magination. 
ig  believe  I 
t  since  I  had 
night — her 
ospital,  for, 
(ays  there's 
»et  oflf  this 
•  girl  in  my 

•ing  this  re- 
•caks  which 
The  master 
jing  to  the 
ent  me  oflf 

m  now  and 
es,  "  it  isn't 

Leah  tells 
reat  debate 
n'  shame  to 

in,  for  she 
le  could  do 
and  slipped 
I  to  pay  my 
f  ourselves, 
der  than  he 
I  lay  it  on 
Mr.  Coulter 
over.*' 


This  made  Con's  tears  flow  afresh,  but  he  assured 
Winny  that  he  f«U  as  grateful  himself  to  Mr.  Coul- 
ter as  she  did,  and  would  always  consider  him  a 
friend.  "  But  for  God's  sake  don't  talk  of  dying, 
Winny,"  he  added,  his  voice  quivering  with  emo- 
tion ;  "  don't  now,  an'  I'll  do  anything  at  all  you  ask 

me." 

"  We'2 !  well !  Con,  I'm  not  dead  yet,  anyhow,  and 
you  know  very  well  that  my  talking  of  it  won't  bring 
it  about— if  it's  the  will  of  God  I'll  die,  and  if  not  I'll 
live— so  don't  be  cast  down.  Con— leave  it  all  in  the 
hands  of  God,  and  then  take  whatever  happens  for 
the  best.  But  you  must  get  a  carriage  or  something 
that  way,  and  take  me  to  the  hospital— that's  the 
first  thing  to  be  done." 

This  made  Con  tremble  all  over.  He  tried  to 
spi.ik  but  the  words  stuck  in  his  throat,  and  he  forc- 
ed a  cough  in  order  to  clear  his  voice ;  taking  up  his 
hat,  I  '  said:  "Well!  I  suppose  I  must  see  about  it. 
Where's  the— the  hospital,  Winny,  or  what  hospital 
is  it?— hem!" 

•'There's  a  charity-hospital,  Con,"  said  Winny, 
after  taking  a  draught  of  cold  water  from  a  mug 
which  stood  on  a  chair  beside  the  bed,  «'  where  we 
have  to  pay  nothing  at  all,  and  our  own  '^lergy  go 
there  regular— it's  true,"  she  added,  hesitatingly, 
"I'd  rather  not  go  in  on  charity  so  1  >ng  as  I  have 
means  to  pay,  but  what  I  have  wouldn't  last  long, 
and,  besides,  if  I  die.l  you'd  want  it  to  bury  me." 
All  this  was  said  in  a  quick,  hurried  voice,  as  if 


CON    0  REOAK  ;   OR, 


Winny  wanted  to  get  through  with  it,  and  when  ehe 
had  ended,  she  drew  a  long  breath,  as  if  relieved  of 
a  heavy  burthen. 

"Well,  but  don't  you  know,  Winny,"  said  her 
brother  eagerly,  "  that  I  have  ten  dollars  by  me,  and 
jon  have  Mr.  Coulter's  ten  dollars — that  makes 
twenty,  you  see,  besides  your  own." 

"  And  do  you  think,  Con,  that  I'd  let  you  spend 
your  ten  dollars  that  way,  an'  you  wantin'  so  badly 
to  send  it  home  ? — no,  indeed,  not  a  penny  of  it.  In- 
stead of  that  I  thought  I'd  be  able  to  help  you  to 
send  for  Biddy  and  the  children,  but  I  suppose  that's 
all  over — well,  wc  must  only  do  the  best  we  can,  and 
leave  the  rest  to  God." 

Con  went  off  at  length,  commisaioned  by  Winny 
to  do  as  he  liked, "  and  God  direct  him  for  the  best." 
So  he  found  out  the  hospital  after  a  long  search,  and 
made  arrangements  to  have  Winny  admitted ;  then 
procured  a  carriage,  and,  wrapping  Winny  up  in  her 
warmest  clothes,  kindly  assisted  by  Leah,  he  re- 
moved her  from  the  house  that  had  been  her  dwell- 
ing for  four  long  years,  with  nothing  more  than  a 
cold  "  good-bye"  from  Mrs.  Coulter,  who  graciously 
descended  to  the  door  to  see  her  ofil 

"  Good-bye,  Winny."  said  the  laJy ;  "  I  hope 
you'll  be  well  soon.  Take  good  care  of  yourself." 
And  with  this  admonition  she  closed  the  door,  and 
returned  to  her  luxurious  parlor,  where  she  soon 
forgot  all  about  Winny  in  the  fascination  of  the  last 
new  novel. 


Poc 

in  on( 

first  c 

"Got 

your  V 

see  m< 

ger  of 

get  tb 

Kow, 

that  h 

but  a  I 

day,  b 

morro' 

turninj 

evenin^ 

on,  an( 

now,  C 

hand, \ 

"  go  n 

about  I 

as  you 

"I  ^ 

be  lea 

poor  g 

from  hi 

about  i 

back  to 

ter  was 

been. 

Saturdf 


MIOIUNT  UrE  IH  THE  NEW  WORI.I), 


81 


,  and  when  she 
if  relieved  of 

ny,"  said  her 
irs  by  jne,  and 
— that    makes 

let  you  spend 
atin'  SQ  badly 
jnny  of  it.  In- 
to help  you  to 
suppose  that's 
ist  we  can,  and 

icd  by  Winny 
I  for  the  best." 
Hg  search,  and 
Smitted;  then 
inny  up  in  her 
Leah,  he  re- 
een  her  dwell- 
r  more  than  a 
?ho  graciously 

Jy;  "I  hope 
i  of  yourself." 
the  door,  and 
here  she  soon 
;ion  of  the  last 


Poor  Winny  was  very  soon  comfortably  settled 
in  one  of  the  wards  of  the  hospital,  and  then  her 
first  care  was  to  have  Con  bring  her  the  priest. 
"  Go  to  Father  Timlin,"  said  she,  "  before  you  go  to 
your  work,  and  ask  him  if  he  can  at  all  to  come  and 
see  me,     Tell  him,"  said  she,  "  that  there's  no  dan- 
ger of  death— at  least  very  soon— but  it's  well  to 
get  the  rites  of  the  Church  as  soon  as  possible. 
Now,  Con,  don't  cry  that  way— you  know  very  well 
that  having  the  priest  won't  make  me  any  worse, 
but  a  great  deal  better.     Maybe  he  can't  come  to- 
day,  but  if  not,   I  hope   he'll  try  and   come   to- 
morrow.    And,   do  you  hear,  Con,"  for  he  was 
turning  away  in  speechless  sorrow,  «  go  down  this 
evening,  and  see  how  poor  Mrs.  Bergen  is  getting 
on,  and  bring  me  word  when  you  come  again.     Go, 
now,  Con,"  and  she  reached  out  her  thb,  skinny 
hand,  which  her  brother  squeezed  between  his  own ; 
"  go  now,  and  God  bless  you !    Don't  be  fiettin' 
about  me,  but  pray  for  mo,  and  come  again  as  soon 
as  you  oan." 

"  I  will,  Winny  !"  was  all  that  Con  could  say,  as 
he  left  the  room,  not  daring  to  look  again  at  the 
poor  girl,  who  had  all  along  endeavored  to  conceal 
from  him  the  actual  extent  of  her  suffering.  It  was 
about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  Con  got 
back  to  the  warehouse,  and,  finding  that  Mr.  Coul- 
ter was  out,  he  said  nothing  about  where  he  had 
been.  No  questions  were  asked  of  him,  but  when 
Saturday  evening  carao  round,  Con  found  that  he 


82 


CON  o'regan  ;  OR, 


was  paid  half  a  day  short.  "  Well  1"  said  he  to  himself 
"  I  wasu't  half  a  day  away,  but  then  I  suppose  it's  all 
right.  I  mustn't  say  anything  about  this  to  Mr 
Coulter  for  I  know  very  well  he'd  make  a  fass,  and 
there's  no  use  in  the  like  of  that.  I'll  get  over  the 
loss." 

When  Con  went  to  see  Mrs.  Bergen,  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  day  on  which  Winny  went  to  the  hospital, 
he  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find  her  much  more 
cheerful  than  he  had  seen  her  since  he  came  to 
America.  Paul  was  silting  at  the  table  reading,  and 
laying  down  his  book  on  Con's  entrance,  he  came 
forward  ♦.o  meet  him  with  outstretched  hand. 

<'  You  look  as  if  you  hardly  thought  it  was  me  was 
in  it,"  said  Paul,  ^vith  a  smile  that  he  wished  to 
make  a  cheerful  one,  but  could  not  succeed — it  was 
a  wintry  smile,  at  best,  for  grief  was  still  heavy  at 
his  heart,  "  and  I  don't  wonder  at  your  bein'  sur- 
prised, for  I  almost  wonder  at  myself  to  be  at  homo 
e'er  an  evenin'  without  some  pot-companions  helpin' 
me  to  make  a  beast  of  myself  Sit  down,  Con,  an' 
take  air  of  the  fire." 

"  Yes,  Con,"  said  Nora,  as  she  in  her  turn,  shook 
hands  with  the  visitor,  *'you  see  we  have  a  good 
fire  now,  an'  what's  more,  we  have  plenty  to  eat  an' 
drink,  an'  best  of  all,  Con,  we  have  peace  ar'  iiet- 
ness.  Thanks  an'  praises  ba  to  God,  if  He  afflicts  us 
in  one  way  He  makes  up  for  it  in  another." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure,"  said  Con,  "  you  all  look  twenty 
pounds  better  than  you  did  last  week,  and  more  of 


k!i'^i!yM.n)f^lffwffl.mmJm%^o 


Kii?^*Anj»- 


nn 


id  he  to  himBelf 
[  suppose  it's  all 
lut  this  to  Mr 
aake  a  fnsa,  and 
I'll  get  over  the 

en,  on  the  even- 
t  to  the  hospital, 
her  much  more 
ice  he  came  to 
ible  reading,  and 
trance,  he  came 
bed  hand, 
lit  it  was  me  was 
t  he  wished  to 
succeed — it  was 
as  still  heavy  at 

your  bein'  sur- 
ilf  to  be  at  homo 
mpanions  helpin' 

down,  Ccn,  an' 

[  her  turn,  shook 
we  have  a  good 
plenty  to  eat  an' 
peace  ar'  ;iiet- 
;,  if  He  afflicts  us 
1  other." 

I  all  look  twenty 
iek,  and  more  of 


EMIGRANT  UFE  IN  THE  NKW  WORLD. 


83 


that  to  you,  I  pray  God."  He  did  not  think  it  ex. 
pediont  to  inquire  how  such  a  change  was  effected 
all  at  once,  but  Nora  anticipated  his  curiosity. 

"I  see,"  said  she,  «  you  don't  like  to  ask  how  all 
this  was  brought  about,  but  I'm  sure  you  can't  but 
guess,  Paul  has  never  tasted  a  drop  of  any  kind 
since— since  our  heavy  loss— an'  he  went  to  his  duty 
the  very  day  after  the  funeral,  an'  he's  to  go  again 
towards  the  end  of  the  week.  So,  with  God's  help, 
there's  no  fear  of  him  but  he'll  keep  from  the  liquor 
now.  I  declare  to  you,  Con  O'Rcgan,  it's  in  heaven 
we  are  ever  since,  an'  you'd  wonder  at  how  easy  we 
find  it  to  get  the  little  wants  of  the  house,  though 
It's  only  a  week  since  Paul  left  off  drinking." 

"And  sure  Patsey  and  Jim  go  to  school,  and  me, 
too,"  said  Jane,  anxious  to  communicate  a  share  of 
the  good  news." 

"  Well,  indeed,  I'm  proud  an'  happy  to  hear  it," 
said  Con,  "  especially  as  I  have  bad  news  myself." 

"  How  is  that  ?"  cried  Paul  and  Nora  in  a  breath ; 
"  is  there  anything  wrong  with  Winny  ?" 

"  Indeed  then  the  o  is,"  said  Con,  with  a  heavy 
sigh .  "  I  left  her  in  the  hospital  this  afternoon." 

"  The  Lord  save  us  I  an'  what  in  the  world  is  the 
matter  with  her  ?" 

"Well,  mysslf  doesn't  rightly  know,  but  I'm 
afeard  it's  decHue.  If  it  isn't,  it'u  very  like  it,  though 
I  didn't  say  so  to  her.  She  wanted  so  badly  to  know 
how  you  were  all  getting  on  here  that  I  had  to  pro- 
raise  I'd  come  and  sec  yon  this  evening." 


«.'e'jsas«i»^[WM»-. 


/'y 


84 


CON   O'REGAN  ;   OR, 


"Poor  Winny,  it's  just  like  her,"  said  Paul. 
"  Ycu  must  go  and  see  her  to-morrow,  Nora — that 
is,  if  you're  able  at  all." 

"  Oh  I  I'm  able  to  go  further  than  that,  never  fear, 
and  if  I  were  weaker  than  I  am  now,  I'd  make  my 
way  to  see  Winny  O'Regan,  an'  her  sick  among  tlio 
cowld  strangers  in  an  hospital.  No  one  knows  but 
God  Almighty  and  myself  how  much  I  owe  to  that 
same  giil.  Many  and  many's  the  time  she  brought 
me  comfort  when  I  had  very  little,  though  dear 
knows  I  used  to  scold  her  often  for  layin'  out  her 
penny  of  money  on  me  that  had  my  husband  earnin' 
good  wages  every  week  of  his  life." 

"  The  wages  were  good  enough,  Nora,"  said  Paul 
quickly,  "  but  you  weren't  much  the  better  of  them, 
and  poor  Winny  knew  that  well  enough.  But  never 
mind,  Nora,  with  God's  help,  your  darkest  days  are 
past,  never  to  come  back  again." 

"  God  grant  they  may,  Paul,  but  remember  no 
days  are  to  say  dark  for  me  if  you  only  keep  Bob<jr, 
and  set  these  poor  children  a  good  example.  I  can 
bear  poverty,  and  sickness,  and  hard  work— anything 
at  all  that  God  is  pleased  to  send,  but  drunkenness, 
and  cursin',  and  swearin',  and  all  such  things,  and 
seein'  my  little  place  filled  so  ox'ten  with  graceless 
vagabonds— that's  worse  than  death  to  me,  and  so 
long  as  I  don't  see  any  of  it  about  me,  I'm  ready  for 
anything  that  comes  across." 

"  Well,  well,  Nora,"  said  her  husband,  "there's  no 
Use  ia  nsakin'  too  many  promises,  but  I  tell  you  ovef 


Kgam 
since 
gust  i 
me  u| 
never 
hurry 

"O 
have  I 

Fai 
day  t( 
there 
tain  1 
insist) 
ny  as! 
for  80 
to  do 

"N 
much 
have, 
as  yo 
towar 
scy  w 
till  I  I 
—just 
keep  ; 

As" 
while 
tlirpu| 
the  ol 
time  I 


ler,"  said  Paul, 
row,  Nora — that 

I  that,  never  fear, 
v,  I'd  make  my 
r  sick  among  the 

0  one  knows  but 
ich  I  owe  to  that 
time  she  brought 
tie,  though  dear 
or  layin'  out  her 
y  husband  earnin' 

r 

Nora,"  said  Paul 
lG  better  of  them, 
lough.  But  never 
•  darkest  days  are 

)Ot  remember  po 

1  only  keep  sober, 
1  example.  I  can 
d  work — anything 

but  drunkennesH, 
I  such  thinge,  and 
,en  with  graceless 
ith  to  me,  and  so 

me,  I'm  ready  for 

sband,  "  there's  no 
but  I  tell  you  ovef 


EMIGRANT  UFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


8ft 


tgain  that  there's  a  great  change  m  my  mmd  ever 
since  the  night  that  poor  Peter  died- -I  feel  a  div 
gust  in  me  for  the  liquor  and  them  that  used  to  heip 
me  up  with  my  bad  doings,  and,  please  God,  you'll 
never  see  me  as  you  have  seen  me.  But  what's  your 
hurry,  Con?"  seeing  him  stand  up  and  take  his  hat. 

"Oh,  well,  it's  drawing  near  nine  clock,  and  I 
have  to  be  up  early  in  the  morning.     Good  night." 

Faithful  to  her  promise  went  Nora  Bergen  next 
day  to  the  hospital  to  see  Winny,  and  when  she  left 
there  some  half  hour  after,  she  had  with  her  a  cer- 
tain bundle  containing  Winny's  clothes,  which  she 
insisted  on  taking  home  to  wash.  In  vain  did  Win- 
ny assure  her  that  she  had  plenty  of  under-clothes 
for  some  weeks  to  come,  and  that  she  had  too  much 
to  do  already  for  her  own  family. 

"No  matter  for  that,"  said  Nora,  "  I  haven't  so 
much  to  do  but  I  can  M'ash  the  few  things  you'll 
have,  and,  please  God,  I'll  do  it  every  week  ar  long 
as  you're  here.  If  I  can,  I'll  bring  them  m,  self 
towards  the  end  of  the  week,  but  if  not,  I'll  send  ?at- 
sey  with  them.  So  God  be  with  you,  Winny  dtar, 
till  I  see  you  again.  Mind,  now,  and  get  well  soon 
--just  make  your  mind  as  easy  as  you  can,  and  don't 
keep  yourself  back  with  fretting  and  pining." 

As  for  poor  Con,  he  could  hardly  hold  up  his  head 
while  Winny's  case  was  still  undecided.  He  went 
tlirpiigh  his  M'ork  with  ihechanioal  exactness,  but 
the  cheerful  spirit  that  sustained  him  was  for  tho 
time  broken.    One  thought  was  over  present  to  hit 


86 


CON  o'rcoan  ;  OR, 


minci,  thtit  he  was  about  to  lose  the  eister  who  had 
done  to  much  for  him  and  his;  the  eister  who  was 
the  solo  bond  between  him  and  the  pleasant  past 
that  lay  smiling  far  away  in  the  haze  of  time ;  the 
one  true  friend  to  whom  he  could  confide  all  his 
troubles,  ever  sure  of  obtaining  both  sympathy  and 
advice.  What  was  to  become  of  him  in  that  dreary 
ocean  of  a  city  if  Winny  died,  and  died  amongst 
strangers,  to  be  buried  in  a  foreign  soil  where  no 
kindred  dust  awaited  her?  Full  of  these  moumfnl 
thoughts,  Con  moved  through  the  routine  of  his 
daily  duties,  feeling  like  one  whose  heart  was  dead 
within  him.  Weeks  and  weeks  passed  away  thus, 
and  Winny's  little  funds  were  all  gone,  and  after 
them  went  Con's  ten  dollars,  for  it  was  he  that 
always  paid  the  hospital  expenses,  so  that  Winny 
knew  nothing  of  what  they  amounted  to.  Things 
began  to  look  black  with  Con,  for  he  had  now  no 
resource  but  to  draw  his  own  wages  in  advance,  a 
thing  he  had  a  great  reluctance  to  do.  But  there 
was  no  alternative,  so  Con  took  heart  of  grace  and 
asked  Mr.  Coulter  if  he  wouldn't  be  pleased  to  give 
him  a  few  dollars  in  advance  at  his  next  payment. 

Mr.  Coulter  knitted  his  brows,  and  began  to  look 
very  cross — eyeing  Con  through  his  spectacles,  ha 
demanded  :  "  What  do  you  want  the  money  for  ?— ■ 
I  thought  you  had  some  saved — eh  '"' 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  si.","  said  Con  blush 
Ing  like  a  young  maiden,  "  I  had  a  little  money- 
ten  dollars  of  so — but  it's  all  gone,  and  Winny's, 


too,  R 

good 

woulc 

now 

afearc 

week 

Mr, 
took  i 
wont 
iously 
what 
}y  sto 
sharp' 

"A 
thoug 

Coi 
"  It  ci 
get  b 
senter 
chief, 
bis  tej 

Mr. 
resum 
there 
hiddei 

"Y 
peoph 
plobe. 
Winn; 
monej 


^.UIORANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NBW  WORLD, 


tn 


8ter  who  had 
ster  who  was 
pleasant  past 
I  of  time;  the 
lonfide  all  his 
sympathy  and 
in  that  dreary 
died  amongst 
soil  where  no 
dese  mourn fnl 
■outine  of  his 
eart  was  dead 
ed  away  thus, 
)ne,  and  afler 

was  he  that 
o  that  Wii)ny 
i  to.  Things 
B  had  now  no 
in  advance,  a 
3.  But  there 
,  of  grace  and 
leased  to  give 
xt  payment, 
began  to  look 

spectacles,  ha 
money  for?— < 

«d  Con  blush 
ittlo  money— 
and  Winny's, 


loo,  since  she  went  to  the  hospital.  So  if  you'd  be 
good  enough,  sir,  to  advance  me  a  few  dollars,  it 
would  serve  me  very  much,  fbr  I  have  no  other  way 
now  of  paying  for  poor  Winny.  You  needn't  be 
afeard,  sir,  for  you  know  you  can  stop  a  dollar  a 
week  out  of  ray  wages  till  it's  paid  up." 

Mr.  Coulter  put  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and 
took  a  few  turns  around  the  small  room,  as  was  his 
wont  when  lost  in  thought.  Con  watched  him  anx- 
iously, fearing  that  he  was  about  to  refuse,  and  then, 
what  was  he  to  do  ?  But  not  so,  Mr.  Coulter  sudden- 
ly stopped  short  in  front  of  Con,  and  said,  rather 
sharply : 

"And  pray  how  long  is  this  to  go  on?— have  you 
thought  of  that  in  your  wisdom  ?" 

Con's  voice  was  husky  with  emotion  as  he  replied  : 
"  It  can't  last  much, longer,  sir.  Either  Winny  will 
get  better  soon,  or— or" — he  could  not  finish  the 
sentence,  but  turning  away,  took  out  hi  \  handker- 
chief, and  pretended  to  use  it,  in  order  to  conceal 
Lis  tears. 

Mr.  Coulter  said  nothing  for  a  few  minutes,  but 
resumed  his  march  as  before.  When  he  did  speak 
there  was  something  in  his  voice  that  told  of  some 
hidden  feeling  which  his  words  belied. 

"  You,  Irish,'*  said  he,  "  are  the  moat  improvident 
people,  I  do  believe,  on  the  face  of  this  habitable 
globe.  Here,  now,  you  might  as  well  have  placed 
Winny  in  the  free  hospital,  and  have  saved  your 
money  and  hers.     But  I  see  there  is  no  suoh  thing 


88 


CON    O'REOAN  ;    OH, 


as  teaching  yon  prudence  or  economy — ^here  is  a  ten 
dollar  bill — go  off  now  to  your  work,  and  say  noth- 
ing of  this  to  Mr.  Pirns  on  Saturday  night — that  is, 
unless  he  speaks  of  it  himself  Which  is  ^^ry  un- 
likely," added  the  merchant  to  himself,  "  inasmuch 
as  he  shall  never  know  anything  of  it." 

Con  would  have  thanked  his  generous  employer 
but  his  thanks  were  cut  short  with  a  stern  command 
to  go  about  his  business — there  was  no  need  of  thanks. 

Now  the  only  time  that  Con  could  visit  his  sister 
during  the  whole  period  of  her  illness,  was  just  at 
dinner-hour,  as  there  was  no  admission  for  visitors 
either  early  in  the  morning  or  late  in  the  evening, 
and  it  was  his  practice  on  the  days  that  he  went  to 
see  her,  to  content  himself  with  a  few  mouthfuls  of 
anything  he  could  get,  in  order  to  have  time  for  his 
visit.  On  the  day  in  question,  he  provided  himself 
with  a  few  crackers,  and  hurried  away  to  the  hos- 
pital as  soon  as  twelve  o'clock  struck.  How  great 
was  his  joy  to  find  Winny  much  better,  and  more 
cheerful  than  he  had  seen  her  since  her  removal  to 
the  hospital.  She  told  him  the  doctor  had  just  been 
there  and  had  declared  her  decidedly  better.  "  He 
says,"  she  added,  "  that  all  I  want  now  is  care  and 
proper  nourishment.  So  you  see,  Oon,  I'm  worth 
two  dead  people  yet,  though  I  know  very  well  you 
were  making  up  your  mind  thi^  time  back  to  let  me 
go." 

ITer  brother's  joy  was  too  deep  for  words.  lie 
could  only  shake  the  emaciated  hand  held  oat  to 


him,  a 

paid  I 

under] 

again 

of  Wii 

"Ai 

again 

God's 

we  bo 

back-s 

Nov 

not  lik 

both  p 

it,  exc( 

do  on 

then  h 

sprang 

time,  ^ 

take  g( 

mend  in 

it's  one 

As  s 

house  a 

the  fav( 

A^d, th( 

it  was  ( 

pleased 

From 

provem 

week  sb 


BMIORANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


8« 


my — ^here  is  a  ten 
rk,  and  say  noth- 
ay  night — that  is, 
'hich  is  Very  nn- 
nself,  "  inasmuch 

it." 
nerous  employer 

a  stern  command 
no  need  of  thanks, 
lid  visit  his  sister 
ness,  was  jast  at 
ssion  for  visitors 
e  in  the  evening, 
a  that  he  went  to 
few  mouthfuls  of 

have  time  for  his 
provided  himself 

away  to  the  hos- 
uck.  How  great 
better,  and  more 
se  her  removal  to 
otor  had  just  been 
idly  better.  "  He 
t  now  is  care  and 
,  Oon,  I'm  worth 
ow  very  well  you 
mc  back  to  let  me 

}  for  words.     He 
hand  held  oat  to 


him,  and  squeeaed  it  hard,  hard.  That  moment  re- 
paid  htm  for  all  the  sorrow,  all  the  anxiety  he  had 
undergone,  and  he  felt  as  if  nothing  could  ever 
again  make  him  repine,  since  there  was  a  prospect 
of  Winny  being  restored  to  him. 

"And  now,"  said  Winny,  "  we  may  begin  to  talk 
again  of  getting  Biddy  out,  and  the  children.    With 
God's  help  I'll  be  round  again,  very  soon,  and  when 
we  both  lay  our  heads  together,  we'll  get  over  this 
back-set.     How  much  money  have  we  now,  Con  P" 
'Now  this  was  a  puzzling  question,  for  Con  did 
not  like  to  tell  his  sister  all  at  once  that  they  were 
both  penniless,  and  yet  he  knew  not  how  to  evade 
it,  except  by  stating  a  falsehood,  which  he  could  not 
do  on  any  account.    To  his  great  relief,  he  just 
then  heard  a  neighboring  clock  strike  one,  and  Con 
sprang  up  at  once,  saying:  "I'll  tell  you  some  other 
time,  Winny,     Good-bye,  now,  and    be  sure  you 
take  good  care  of  yourself,  now  that  you're  on  the 
mendin'  hand.    I  must  be  oflf  to  ray  work,  for  there 
it's  one  o'clock." 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Coulter  returned  to  the  ware, 
house  aller  dinner.  Con  hastened  to  let  him  know 
the  favorable  change  that  had  taken  place  in  Winny, 
ansd,  though  the  old  gentleman  spoke  but  few  words, 
it  was  quite  clear  from  his  manner  that  he  was  well 
pleased  to  hear  the  news. 

From  that  day  forward,  there  was  a  visible  im^ 
provement  in  Winny's  health,  and  in  the  course  of  a 
week  she  was  able  to  sit  up  a  little  every  day.     Her 


•0 


CON  o'bkgan  ;  OB, 


recovery,  however,  was  not  very  rapid,  bo  that  two 
weeks  more  had  elapsed  before  she  was  discharged 
from  the  hospital.  Mrs.  Bergen  came  on  the  day 
appointed  for  Winny's  removal,  and  helped  to  dress 
her  as  though  she  were  a  little  child. 

"  And  now,"  said  Winny,  "  that  I'm  ready  to  go, 
where  am  I  to  go  to  ?"  She  smiled  as  she  spoke, 
but  her  smile  was  a  sad  one. 

"  "Where  would  you  go  to,"  retorted  Nora,  "  but 
to  our  house  ?  It's  a  little  more  comfortable  than 
it  used  to  be,  thanks  be  to  God,  an'  if  you'll  just  put 
up  with  it,  you'll  be  as  welcome  as  if  you  were  our 
own  child.  Not  a  word  now— not  one  word,  but 
bid  good-bye  to  the  nurses  and  let  us  be  off." 

Opposition  here  would  have  been  an  unpardonable 
offence,  as  Winny  knew  very  well,  so  she  had  no- 
thing for  it  but  to  do  her  friend's  bidding,  and  fol- 
low her  down  the  stairs  submissive  as  a  little  child. 
"When  the  children  came  home  from  school  in  the 
afternoon,  Mrs.  Bergen  sent  Patsey  to  inform  Con 
of  his  sister's  whereabouts,  and  when  evening  came 
he  made  his  appearance,  looking  the  very  picture  of 
contentment. 

"  Well,  now,"  said  he,  "  if  we  only  had  Biddy  and 
the  children  here,  sure  enough  we'd  be  as  happy  aa 
kings  and  queens." 

"And  maybe  a  great  deal  happier,"  observed 
Winny ;  "  riches  can't  buy  happiness  any  more  than 
they  can  buy  health.  That's  one  comfort  for  the 
poor."    Winny  had  never  heard  of  the  truism : 


"  Uue: 

was  ^ 

"  Blesi 

never 

for  mc 

and  as 

"Iv 

Paul; 

Barne] 

tunate 

ed  wil 

there's 

a  hard 

the  mo 

ooort,  1 

even  tl 

of  ther 

faces. 

isn't  it 

sperit  i 

as  we  ( 

"TLi 

seems  1 

what  v 

And  P 

since  I 

"Wl 

«W1 

could  ( 

many  s 


)id,  80  that  two 
was  discharged 
amc  on  the  day 
helped  to  dresB 
I. 

I'm  ready  to  go, 
id  as  she  spoke, 

■ted  Nora,  "  but 
omfortable  than 
if  you'll  just  put 
if  you  were  our 
t  one  word,  but 
U9  be  off." 
an  unpardonable 
80  she  had  no- 
bidding,  and  fol- 
:  as  a  little  child, 
im  school  in  the 
y  to  inform  Con 
leu  evening  came 
e  very  picture  of 

y  had  Biddy  and 
d  be  as  happy  as 


ppier,' 


observed 


ss  any  more  than 
comfort  for  the 
of  the  trnism : 


EMIGRANT  UFK  IN  THE  NEW  WORLn. 


91 


"  Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown,"  but  she 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  Christian  axiom: 
"Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,"  and  hence  she 
never  dreamed  of  envying  the  rich,  nor  of  sighing 
for  more  than  her  allotted  portion  of  earth's  goods, 
and  assuredly  her  portion  was  a  small  one. 

"  I  was  just  thinking  of  poor  Tom  Derragh,"  said 
Paul;  "what  do  you  think,  Con,  but  himself  and 
Barney  Brady  are  lyin'  in  jail  ever  since  that  unfor- 
tunate dance.  God  help  us  for  poor  Irish,"  he  add- 
ed with  a  heavy  sigh.  "We're  foolish  enough, 
there's  no  denyin'  it,  but  then  there's  no  one  to  take 
a  hard  word  off  us— our  failings  are  sure  to  be  made 
the  most  of.  If  you'd  just  hear  the  people  in  the 
coort,  the  mornin'  that  we  were  all  tried,  ay  I  indeed, 
even  the  very  lawyers,  ridiculln'  the  Irish,  an'  some 
of  them  takin'  off  our  way  of  speakin'  to  our  very 
faces.  But  after  all,"  said  Paul,  thoughtfully,  "  sure, 
isn't  it  our  own  fault  ?  If  we  had  only  the  proper 
sperit  in  us  we  wouldn't  lave  ourselves  in  their  power 
as  we  do  " 

"  That's  true  enough,"  said  Con,  "  but  still  there 
seems  to  be  something  in  their  mind  against  us.  Do 
what  we  will,  the  most  of  them  are  down  on  ua. 
And  Paul,  do  you  know  what  I  was  often  thiukin 
since  I  came  here  ?" 
"  What's  that.  Con  ?" 

"  Why,  that  there  must  be  .-.ome  place  where  we 
could  do  better  than  we  do  here.  You  see  how 
many  strong,  healthy  Irishmen  there  are  in  this  very 


M 


CON    O'UKOAN  ;    OR, 


city,  wearing  away  their  lives  at  hard  work  of  every 
kind  an'  spending  their  money  just  as  they  make  it 
-aometimes  before  ifs  made-and  living  in  holes 
and  corners,  wherever  they  can  get  a  place  to  stick 

themselves  and  their  families  into " 

••Just  like  us.  Con,"  said  Paul,  with  a  good-hn- 
mored  smile,  "  barrowin'  like  rabbits  down  in  the 
ground.     But  there's  thousands  of  our  poor  country 
people  worse  off  even  than  we  are,"  he  added,  with 
much  feeling.     "  Yon  haven't  seen  them  half  as  bad 
as  they  are.     If  you  knew  the  state  they're  in  as  well 
as  I  do,  then  you  might  talk.    Why,  there's  houses 
in  this  very  city,  Con,  where  there's  ten  or  twelve 
Irish  families  in  one  house,  an'  not  a  very  big  house, 
either.     An'  as  for  the  drinkiu'  and  boozin'  and 
fightin',  that  oomes  from  there  being  so  many  of 
them  cramped  up  together,  there  would  be  no  use 
,    in  me  tryin'  to  .ell  it  to  you,  for  I  couldn't.     What 
you  saw  hero  in  my  mad  fits  was  nothing  at  all  m 
comparison.    Dear  knows,  Oon,  there's  some  great 
change  wanted    among    us— however    it  may  be 
brought  about." 

«'  Why  don't  some  of  you  go  to  the  country  (   m- 
quired  Con;  "wouldn't  you  get  work  out  on  the 

farms?" 

"Well,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Paul,  "but  I  know 
Bome  that  tried  it,  and  they  didn't  seem  to  like  it 
very  well.  The  farms  all  round  here  belong  to 
Americans,  and  wherever  they  can  get  their  own  to 
work  for  them,  they'll  not  have  others.    They're  no 


bettei 

than  th 
is  v'ith 
He 
try  to  1 
I  think 
Home ! 
you  evi 

Con 
"You 
como-!  ( 

"W< 
ful  ton 
Paul, 
short  c 
he  wou 

All  1 
had  bei 
"  Isn't 
people, 
time  t( 
over  80 
would 
work  y 
and  ou 
so   ma: 
Avhere 
laborei 
countr; 
most  I 


I  work  of  every 
as  they  make  it 
living  in  holes 
I  place  to  stick 
_»» 

nih  a  good- lin- 
ts down  in  the 
ur  poor  country 
'  he  added,  with 
,hem  half  as  bad 
.hey're  in  as  well 
Y,  there's  houses 
's  ten  or  twelve 
1  very  big  house, 
and  booziii'  and 
3ing  so  many  of 
vould  be  no  use 
couldn't.    What 
nothing  at  all  in 
lore's  some  great 
ever    it  may  be 

the  country  ?"  in- 
work  out  on  the 


ul,  "but 


I  know 
t  seem  to  like  it 
[  here  belong  to 
I  get  their  own  to 
hers.    They're  no 


MIGRANT  LIFE  I.V  THR  XKW  KOBt.n. 


98 


bettei  friends  to  the  Irish — these  Yankee  farmers— 
than  the  townspeople — and  yon  see  yourself  how  it 
is  with  f/icnt.     God  help  us,  I  say  again  !" 

''  He  will  help  us,"  sai'l  Winny,  softly,  "  if  we  only 
try  to  help  ourselves.  Wo  mustn't  leave  all  to  Him. 
I  think,  Con  dear,  it's  time  you  were  movinj^  home — ■ 
Home !'  she  repeated,  with  a  melancholy  smile ;  "  will 
you  ever  have  a  home  ? — God  only  knows." 

Con  smiled  and  shook  his  head,  bu  said  nothing. 
"  You  must  have  one  of  some  kind  when  Biddy 
comes  out,"  continued  his  sister. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Con,  in  no  very  cheer- 
ful tone,  as  he  shock  hands  with  Mrs.  Bergen  and 
Paul.  A  heavy  sigh  escaped  him,  but  ho  forced  a 
short  cough  in  order  to  conceal  it,  and  t<)id  Winny 
he  would  come  again  on  the  following  evening. 

All  the  way  home  he  was  thinking  of  what  Paul 
had  been  saying,  and  he  asked  himself  over  and  over, 
"  Isn't  it  a  hard  fate  to  be  toiling  forever  for  other 
people,  and  never  be  putting  anything  by  for  the 
time  to  come  ?  If  a  body  had  a  bit  of  land  now — 
ever  so  little — that  he  could  call  his  own — then  there 
w  ould  be  some  use  in  working — then  every  day's 
work  we  did  would  be  so  much  laid  up  for  ourselves 
and  our  families.  Isn't  it  a  queer  thing  ill  out  that 
so  many  shut  themselves  up  in  tow7JS  this  way, 
where  most  of  them  never  rise  higher  than  day- 
laborers,  and  them  all — one  might  say — used  to  a 
country-life  at  home  I  Well  now,  I  declare,  that 
mast  be  the  great  reason  that  they  don't  do  welL 


u 


CON  o'rkoan  ;  OR, 


If  God  would  only  give  me  the  chance  of  gettin* 
Battled  ou  a  farm,  I  think  I'd  be  a  happy  man  !" 

Full  of  these  thoughts  Con  lay  down  on  his  cot- 
bed,  after  saying  his  prayers  devoutly,  and  di-eamed 
that  he  saw  Biddy  milking  one  of  some  half  a 
dozen  fine  cows,  while  he  himself  was  tnreshing 
wheat  in  a  large  barn. 


chance  of  gettin* 

happy  man !" 

down  on  his  cot- 

utly,  and  d  ••earned 

3  of  somfe  half  a 

elf  "was  tnreshing 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


;s  ilia 

•Is  IIIIM 


12.0 
111^ 

U    III  1.6 


"'^.•^i'^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


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^.^  . 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  histv^riques 


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KMIORANT  LIFK  IN  THE  NSW  WORLD. 


M^ 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Thk  first  opportunity  that  "Wiuny  got  she  renewed 
her  inquiry  after  the  money,  and  heard  with  sorrow 
that  her  brother's  little  hoard  was  gone  as  well  as 
her  own.  Not  that  Winny  cared  about  the  money 
for  its  own  intrinsic  value,  but  because  it  delayed 
for  an  indefinite  time  the  sending  for  Con's  wife  and 
children. 

"  Well,  Con,"  said  she,  after  a  pause,  "  you  wouldn't 
take  my  advice,  and  put  me  in  the  free  hospital.  If 
you  had,  I'd  have  been  just  as  well  now,  and  we'd 
have  had  our  penny  of  money  safe.  But  sure  I  know 
you  done  it  all  for  the  best,  and  there's  no  use  fret- 
tin'  about  what  can't  be  brought  back.    But  tell  me 

this.  Con?"  she  added,  withnewly-awakened  anxiety, 
"  did  you  think  of  making  an  offering  for  the  dead 
on  All  Souls'  Day  ?" 

"Indeed,  then,  I  did,  Winny!— I  gave  lather 
Timlin  a  dollar  with  that  intention,  but  you  were  so 
bad  at  the  time  that  I  didn't  care  to  say  anything 
about  it  to  you.  Oh!  bedad,  it  would  never  do, 
Winny,  to  forget  them  that  can't  do  anything  for 
themselvea.    If  we  did,  we  couldn't  expect  others  to 


99  coK  o'rkgan  ;  or, 

remember  ua  when  it  comes  our  turn  to  be  in  the 

fiery  prison." 

"  God  bless  you,  Con,  but  it's  you  that  has  ever 
and  always  the  good  thought  I-I'm  well  pleased  to 
hear  that  you  did  what  you  ought  to  do  that  day, 
and  you  may  be  sure  you'll  be  nothing  the  poorer 
of  what  you  gave,  at  the  year's  end." 

Mrs.  Bergen  here  came  in  with  something  which 
she  had  been  purchasing  at  the  market.  It  was  Sa- 
turday evening,  and  she  had  to  wait  for  Paul's  wages 
before  she  could  go  to  make  her  purchases  for  Sun- 
day. Setting  down  her  basket,  she  drew  a  long 
breath,  observing,  with  a  smile,  as  she  shook  hands 

with  Con : 

"  It's  hard  work  that  for  a  person  that's  not  very 
strong,  but  sure  it's  thankful  I  am  to  have  meat  to 
bring  home.     But  whaL'a  become  of  Paul,  Wiuny  ?" 

"Oh!  he's  gone  to  see  about  making  up  that  money 
for  Barney  Brady's  family.  He  thought  Saturday 
night  was  the  best  time  to  go  out  when  the  men 
would  all  be  after  getting  their  wages." 

"An'  w'^o'8  gone  with  him  ?"  asked  Nora,  in  visi- 
ble trepidation. 

"Andy  Dwyer  he  called  him.    He  seems  a  very 

decent  man." 

"An'  BO  he  is,  Winny,"  said  Mrs.  Bergen,  with  re- 
newed  cheerfulness;  "  there's  not  much  fear  of  Paul 
falling  in  with  bad  company  so  long  as  Andy  Dwyer'a 
at  his  side.  God  forgive  me !  I  was  afeard  lie  had 
got  in  with  some  of  the  old  set  again!— Well,  Oon, 


I 

1 
t 
1 

■! 

i 

( 

t 
t 

I 

1 

F 

ii 

I 

fa 
•w 

B 

t' 
t( 

bI 
n 

n 

Bl 


•  turn  to  be  in  the 

8  you  that  has  ever 
-I'ln  well  pleased  to 
ght  to  do  that  day, 
nothing  the  poorer 
end." 

th  something  which 
market.  It  was  Sa- 
vait  for  Paul's  wages 
r  purchases  for  Sup- 
it,  she  drew  a  long 
,  as  she  thook  hands 

evson  that's  not  very 
[  am  to  have  meat  to 
ue  of  Paul,  Wiuny  ?" 
aaking  up  that  money 
le  thought  Saturday 
0  out  when  the  men 
r  wages." 
"  asked  Nora,  in  visi- 

ra.    He  seems  a  very 

Mrs.  Bergen,  with  re- 
not  much  fear  of  Paul 
long  as  Andy  Dwyer's 
I  was  afeard  lie  bad 
at  again !— Well,  Con, 


EMIGPANT  LIKE  IN  THE  KKW  WORLD 


91 


•hat's  the  news?    Don't  you  find  this  girl  of  oura 
lookin'  better  than  she  did  ?" 

"  Indeed,  then,  I  do,  Mrs.  Bergen,  she's  coming 
round  nicely,  thanks  be  to  God.  And  after  Him," 
he  added,  with  a  meaning  smile,  "  I  think  there's 
somebody  else  deservin'  of  thanks.  Well !  well !  I 
hope  there's  a  good  time  coming! — we'll  not  be  al- 
ways as  far  behind  as  we  are  now.  But  I  believe 
it's  most  time  to  be  on  the  road." 

"Ah,  then,  sure  you  wouldn't  think  of  going, 
Con,"  put  in  Mrs.  Bergen,  "  till  you  hear  how  Paul 
and  Andy  got  along  with  their  collection  j  Lut,  tut, 
man,  sit  down — you'll  be  time  enough  this  hour  yet  1" 

Con  was  easily  persuaded,  being  really  anxious  to 
hoar  the  result  of  Paul'c  aritable  undertaking. 
All  at  once,  Mrs.  Bergen  gave  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise :  "  Why,  Jane,"  addressing  her  daughter,  "  who 
in  the  world  scrubbed  the  floor  ?" 

"  Why,  indeed,  mother,  it  was  Winny  that  did  it," 
>cplied  the  little  girl,  who  sat  by  the  stove  with  the 
baby  on  her  knee.  "Baby  woke  up  before  you 
were  long  gone,  and  I  had  to  sit  under  him  ever 
since.  So  Winny  went  to  work  and  scrubbed  up 
the  floor  while  a  body  would  be  lookin'  at  it.  I 
told  her  she'd  catch  it  when  you'd  come  back,  but 
she  wouldn't  heed  what  I  said,  only  laughed  at 
me." 

This  made  Mrs.  Bergen  downright  angry.  "  Well, 
now,  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Winny  O'Regan,"  said 
•he,  with  a  bright  glow  on  her  still  handsome  fev 


n 


CON  o'rkoak  ;  OB, 


tares,  "if  you  had  struck  me  across  the  mouth 
you  couldn't  have  given  me  a  greater  affront. 
Wasn't  it  a  party  thing  now— 1  leave  it  to  yourself! 
—to  see  a  girl  just  only  a  few  days  out  of  the  hos- 
pital goia'  down  on  her  two  knees  to  scrub  a  dirty 
cellar  floor?  I'm  ashamed  of  you,  Winny— that's 
just  what  I  am  !" 

In  vain  did  Winny  declare  herself  fully  strong 
enough  for  the  task  she  undertook,  winding  up  with 
an  assurance  that  sho  did  not  feel  the  least  fatigued. 
Mrs.  Bergen  cut  her  short  with : 

"  No  matter  for  that— I  tell  you,  it  was  a  shame 
for  you,  and  I'll  have  the  same  scrubbin'  in  my  nose 
for  you  this  many  a  day  1" 

Con  enjoyed  the  fan  amazingly,  and  laughed 
heartily  at  Mrs.  Bergen's  good-natured  scold.  The 
debate  was  soon  brought  to  a  close,  however,  by 
the  entrance  of  Paul  and  his  friend  Dwyer,  who 
was,  it  seemed,  purse-bearer  on  the  occasion. 

Neither  Paul  nor  Andy  appeared  in  good  spirits, 
■which  made  the  others  fear  to  ask  how  they  had 
succeeded,  till  at  last  Dwyer,  having  warmed  his 
benumbed  hands  at  the  stcve,  began  to  turn  out  the 
contents  of  his  pockets  on  the  table,  and  Mrs.  Ber- 
gen seeing  the  heap  of  silver  assuming  larger  and 
larger  proportions  every  minute,  could  contain  her- 
self no  longer — 

«  Why,  then,  I  declare,  but  ye  haven't  done  so  bad 
after  all  ?"  she  cried. 
"  An'  who  said  wo  did  ?"  rejoined  her  husband, 


across  the  mouth 
a  greater  affront, 
eave  it  to  yourself! 
ays  out  of  the  hos- 
jes  to  scrub  a  dirty 
ifou,  Winny— that's 

lerself  fully  strong 
ok,  winding  up  with 
;l  the  least  fatigued. 

you,  it  was  a  shame 
crubbia'  in  my  nose 

ingly,  and  laughed 
aatured  scold.  The 
close,  however,  by 
friend  Dwyer,  who 
the  occasion, 
ared  in  good  spirits, 
»  ask  how  they  had 
having  warmed  his 
legau  to  turn  out  tho 
table,  and  Mrs.  Ber- 
issuming  larger  and 
e,  could  contain  her- 

3  haven't  done  so  bad 

joined  her  husband, 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NKW  WORLD. 


99 


gruffly,  as  he  took  his  place  in  front  of  the  stove, 
leaving  Andy  to  reckon  the  money. 

"  Well,  nobody  said  it  to  be  sure,"  replied  his 
wife,  with  a  deprecating  air,  "but  somehow  both  of 
you  looked  so  down-hearted  like,  that  I  thought 
you  didn't  do  as  well  as  you'd  wish." 

"  Oh !  in  regard  to  the  money,"  said  Andy,  sus- 
pending his  reckoning  fv  a  moment,  "  we  have  no 
reason  to  complain.  I  think  you'll  all  wonder  when 
I  have  tho  amount  calculated.  No  !  no !  Mrs.  Ber- 
gen, it  was  quite  another  thing  made  us  down- 
hearted,  as  you  say.  If  we  didn't  dear  buy  that 
money  no  two  men  ever  did.  I  never  went  out  to 
collect  before,  at  least  in  this  country,  and,  upon 
my  veracity,  it'll  be  long  before  I  go  out  again— 
that  is,"  he  added,  "  unless  something  past  the  com- 
mon turns  up.  Tell  them,  Paul,  all  that  happened, 
while  I  count  this  money." 

"  What  can  I  tell  them,"  said  Paul,  still  in  the 
same  aalky  humor,  "only  that  there  isn't  such  a 
curious  set  of  people  in  the  world  wide  as  we  are. 
Con  O'Regan,  I  wish  you  had  been  with  us  this 
night,  an'  then  you'd  see  what  I  was  often  tellin' 
you,  that  there's  plenty  of  Irisli  people  in  this  very 
city  just  as  poor  as  any  in  Ireland,  an'  God  knows, 
that's  sayin'  enough  for  their  poverty  !  We  climbed 
up  four  and  five  pair  of  stairs  this  very  night  in 
twenty  different  houses,  I'm  sure  and  certain,  divin' 
into  little  dark  rooms  on  every  lobby  where  you'd 
•carcely  see  your  hand,  an'  in  every  room  of  them 


too 


coji  o'rfoan'  ;  OR, 


was  a  family,  some  with  five  or  six  children;  still 
the  men  were  most  of  them  at  their  suppers,  an, 
dear  knows,  there  was  hardly  one  but  gave  us  less 
or  more,  though  we  could  scarce  bring  ourselves 
to  ask  them  for  anything.     Sometimes  either  the 
wife  or  the  husband  would  grumble  an'  say  they 
were  poor  enough  themselves,  but  the  other  would 
put  in  with  '  whisht,  now,  you  miserly  orature,  we 
can  give  a  little,  an'  we  will,  too,  plase  the  Lord— 
every  little  helps—'  '  If  we  don't  give,'   another 
would  come  out  with, '  how  can  we  expect  to  get?' 
There  we  were  these  two  mortal  hours,  from  garret 
to  cellar,  an'  from  cellar  to  garret,  except  just  now 
an'  then  that  we'd  happen  on  some  dealer  or  store- 
keeper that  lived  on  a  level  with  the  street." 

"I  don't  know  how  you  had  the  heart  to  ask 
charity  from  such  poor  creatures,"  said  Con,  in  a 
low,  hesitating  voice;  "I  think  I  couldn't  do  it," 
and  ho  dashed  away  a  trickling  tear  with  the  back 

of  his  hand. 

"Well,  sure  enough,  wo  went  into  five  or  sis 
places  where  we  didtCt  ask  anything,  only  just  made 
the  best  of  our  way  out  again,  and  there  was  one 
room,  away  up  at  the  top  of  a  great  empty  barrack 
of  a  house  where  we  found  a  poor  siok  girl  lyin'  on 
straw  on  the  bare  floor,  an'  not  a  crature  to  mind 
her  only  her  father  who  had  just  got  in  with  a  loaf 
of  bread  that  he  had  been  out  for.  There  was  two 
or  three  little  weeny  bits  of  children,  the  eldest  of 
them  not  as  big  as  Patsey  there,  an'  to  see  them 


EllIORANT  UFK  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


101 


six  children;  btlH 
their  Buppers,  an,' 
s  but  gave  uh less 
le  bring  ourselves 
letimea  either  the 
mble  an'  say  they 
it  the  other  would 
lieerly  crature,  we 
>,  plase  the  Lord — 
n't  give,'   another 
we  expect  to  get  ?' 
hours,  from  garret 
t,  except  just  now 
me  dealer  or  store- 
I  the  street." 
I  the  heart  to  ask 
res,"  said  Con,  in  a 
I  couldn't  do  it," 
tear  with  the  back 

nt  into  fire  or  six 
ling,  only  just  made 
and  there  was  one 
»reat  empty  barrack 
or  siok  girl  lyin'  on 
t  a  crature  to  mind 
it  got  in  with  a  loaf 
lor.  There  was  two 
ildren,  the  eldest  of 
ere,  an'  to  lee  them 


-  poor  things  gatherin'  round  the  father  when  they 
saw  the  bread,  an'  houldin'  up  their  little  blue  cold 
hands,— well!  well!"  said  Paul,  trying  to  cough 
down  his  emotion,  "  it  was  a  sorrowful  sight,  sure 
enough,  an'  so  myself  an'  Andy  gave  a  quarter  each 
to  the  poor  heart-broken  father,  an'  made  the  best 
of  our  way  down  the  four  flights  of  stairs  that  we 
had  climbed  up.  As  ill-luck  would  have  it,  poor 
Andy  missed  his  foot  in  the  d?»vk  on  one  of  the 
lower  flights,  an'  fell  down  half  the  stairs.  It  was 
just  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  come  down  here 
after,  an'  only  for  that  we'd  have  gone  farther." 

Andy  was  now  besieged  with  anxious  inquiries 
touching  the  amount  of  damage  he  had  sustained, 
which  was  happily  of  no  great  consequence. 

'« I'll  never  feel  it,"  said  he,  with  a  smile,  "  when 
I'm  one  day  in  the  grave.  But  how  much  money  do 
you  think  we  have  ?"  he  added,  brightening  up  as  he 
glanced  his  eye  over  the  rows  of  little  piles,  each 
containing  a  dollar. 
Each  one  might  have  easily  ascertained  the  exact 

amount,  but  that  would  have  been  too  tedious  a 

mode  of  satisfying  their  benevolent  curiosity,  so  they 

all  asked  eageriy  "  How  much  is  it  ?" 

"Sixty-five  dollars!"  said  Andy,  slowly  enuncU 

ating  every  syllable ;  "  what  do  you  think  of  that? 

— and  the  most  of  it  from  those  very  garrets  and 

cellars  and  little  dark  dens  that  Paul  mentioned  I" 
Winny  and  Con  were  loud  in   expressing  their 

Mtonishment,  but  Mrs.  Bergen  seemed  to  take  it  as 


•'^^ 


109 


CON    o'KEflAN  ;    OR, 


a  matter  of  course.  She  declared  she  had  often  seen 
larger  collections  taken  up  "for  no  bigger  charity 
than  Anty  Brady  an'  her  five  children."  Though 
she  didn't  deny  but  it  was  very  well,  considering  the 
hard  times  that  were  in  it. 

Con  O'Regan  sat  listening  with  a  half  abstracted 
air  to  the  remarks  of  those  around  him,  till  Winny, 
noticing  his  silence,  smilingly  said,  "a  penny  for 
your  thought,  Con !" 

"I  was  just  thinkin',  Winny,"  said  her  brother 
starling  from  his  reverie,  "  how  little  notion  the  peo- 
ple at  home  have  of  all  this.  They  think  if  they 
once  get  to  America  that  their  hardship  is  all  at  an 
end,  an'  that  they'll  never  know  a  day's  poverty 
again.  What  in  the  world  can  be  the  reason  that 
none  of  those  poor  unfortunate  creatures  ever  lets 
their  friends  at  home  know  the  state  they're  in  ? 
I'm  sure  and  certain  if  they  did,  there  wouldn't  be 
one-tenth  of  the  number  comin'  to  America.  They'd 
be  better  pleased  to  starve  at  home  than  in  a  strange 
country.  I  can't  make  out  why  they  don't  tell  the 
truth." 

"  Ah  1  that's  tlie  secret,"  said  Andy,  as  he  busied 
himself  in  making  up  the  money  in  a  neat  parcel ; 
•'  now,  I  tell  you  what  my  notion  is.  Its  true 
enough  what  you  were  saying,  that  most  every  one 
comes  out  here  with  the  expectation  of  making  a 
fortune,  because  it's  a  new  country.  Well,  you  see, 
when  they  find  themselves  disappointed,  as  many  of 
them  are,  they're  ashamed  to  own  it.    They  think 


1 
i 

8 
t 
t 
0 

t] 
CI 

t( 

C 

hi 
tl 
D 

C 

Pi 
H 
hii 
be 


ESIIORANT  LIFB  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


1C3 


she  had  oflen  seen 

no  bigger  charity 

shildren."    Though 

ell,  considering  the 

ti  a  half  abstracted 
id  him,  till  Winny, 
aid,  "a  penny  for 

'  said  her  brother 
ttle  notion  the  peo- 
rhey  think  if  they 
lardship  is  all  at  an 
w  a  day's  poverty 
be  the  reason  that 
creatures  ever  lets 
i  state  they're  in  ? 
,  there  wouldn't  be 
0  America.  They'd 
le  than  in  a  strange 
they' don't  tell  the 

Andy,  as  be  busied 
y  in  a  neat  parcel ; 
otion  is.  Its  true 
hat  most  every  one 
nation  of  making  a 
ry.  Well,  you  see, 
)ointed,  as  many  of 
wn  it.     They  think 


It  8  all  right,  at  least  they  can  bear  their  hardship  the 
better,  as  long  as  it  isn't  known  at  home,  and  that's 
just  the  reason  why  they  all  keep  the  secret.  For 
my  part,  I  never  did,  or  never  will,  encourage  any 
one  to  come  out.  When  I'm  writing  home  I  always 
describe  things  just  as  they  are.  But  what  about 
this  money,  Paul;  will  you  come  with  me  to-morrow 
afternoon  to  give  it  to  the  poor  woman  that  owns 

It   I 

"Any  time  you  like,"  said  Paul,  "for  I'm  sure 
she  8  badly  in  need  of  it.  But,  after  all,  now  Andy 
this  temperance  is  tryin'  enough.  If  it  was  former 
times  with  me,  you  see,  I  wouldn't  let  you  out  with- 
out a  drop  of  something  warm." 

"  And  I'm  a  thousand  times  better  pleased  to  see 
things  as  they  are,"  returned  Andy ;  « if  you  had  a 
cask  of  Uquor  here  I  wouldn't  taste  it.  Good  night 
to  you  all."  Turning  back  at  the  door,  he  gave 
Con  and  Winny  a  cordial  invitation  to  go  and  see 
his  old  woman"  on  the  following  day,  to  which 
they  both  agreed.  Con  lingered  a  moment  after 
Dwyer  had  left,  to  ask  Paul  who  he  was. 

"  He  seems  to  be  a  very  decent,  sober  man,"  said 
Con,  "  an'  a  well-discoorsed  man,  too." 

"Small  thanks  to  him  for  that,  anyhow,"  replied 
Paul;  "sure wasn't  heat  school  till  he  was  man  big. 
He  got  larnin'  for  a  priest,  poor  fellow,  but  somehow 
his  people  weren't  able  to  push  him  on,  or  else  he 
began  to  find  out  that  he  had  no  likin'  for  it ;  so  he 


— te 


104 


coK  o'bkgan  ;  OR, 


jast  married  a  wife,  an'  came  off  Lere  to  Amerioa 
soon  after." 
"And  how  did  he  get  along  here  ?" 
"  Poorly  enough,  Con ;  poorly  enough.    He  went 
out  and  worked  on  the  railroad  a  while,  just  long 
enough  to  make  him  heartsick  of  it,  and  to  leave  him 
/         a  rheumatis  that  he'll  never  get  the  better  of  the 
longest  day  he  has  to  live.    At  last  he  was  cheated 
out  of  twenty  or  thirty  dollars  by  a  rascal  of  a  con- 
tractor— an  Irishman,  too,  and  from  his  own  county 
^and  that  finished  all.    He  took  such  a  disgust 
again  railroads,  that  he  thought  he'd  never  get  away 
soon  enough  from  the  business;  and  neither  would  he 
have  got  into  town,  dear  knows  when,  if  the  men 
hadn't  made  up  a  few  dollars  among  theraeelves  to 
take  him  and  his  sick  wife  and  two  little  children  in." 
"And  what  does  he  do  now  V* 
"  Oh  I  he  turned  his  hand  to  anything  he  could  get 
to  do  for  the  first  couple  of  years,  but  last  May  was 
a  twel'month  he  got  in  as  a  storeman  with  some 
merchant  in  one  of  the  main  streets.    He's  a  Very 
good  sort  of  a  man — noways  bigoted,  Andy  tells 
me—just  such  another  aa  your  master,  Mr.  Coulter, 
Evsr  since  poor  Andy  manages  to  keep  the  wolf 
from  the  door — he  has  seven  dollars  a  week,  and,  to 
a  sober  man  like  him,  that's  enough  to  keep  up  his 

family." 
"  But  he  can't  save  anything  out  of  it,"  observed 

Winny ;  "  so,  if  siokness  came  on  him,  or  any  acci- 


- 


— te 


'  Lere  to  America 

re  ?" 

BDough.     He  went 

a  while,  jast  long 
t,  and  to  leave  him 

the  better  of  the 
Mt  he  was  cheated 
Y  a  rascal  of  a  con- 
jm  his  own  county 
)k  such  a  disgust 
e'd  never  get  away 
id  neither  would  he 
i  when,  if  the  men 
ong  themselves  to 
0  little  children  in." 

jTthing  he  could  get 
s,  but  last  May  was 
oreman  with  some 
reets.  He's  a  very 
igoted,  Andy  tells 
taster,  Mr.  Coulter, 
9  to  keep  the  wolf 
lars  a  week,  and,  to 
ugh  to  keep  up  hia 

out  of  it,"  observed 
[)n  him,  or  any  acci- 


EMIORANT  UFE  IN  THI  NEW  WORLD. 


109 


dent,  he  wouldn't  have  the  means  of  keeping  his  fa- 
mily  for  one  week." 

"  Save,  indeed  !"  cried  Paul,  with  a  husky  laugh ; 
'•  I'd  like  to  know  where's  the  workin'  man  that  can 
save  money  or  have  anything  by  him  if  he  has  a 
young  family  to  support.  No,  no  I— there's  not 
much  chance  of  that,  God  help  us — we  must  only 
take  things  as  they  are,  an'  not  be  frettin'  about  the 
time  to  come." 

"  By  the  laws !"  said  Con,  starting  from  a  reverie, 
"  it's  time  I  wasn't  here,  anyhow.  I'm  sure  it's  every 
minute  of  ten  o'clock.  Good  night  to  you  all!" 
Another  moment,  and  he  was  hurrying  on  with  rapid 
steps  in  the  direction  of  his  boarding-house.  Late 
as  it  was  the  streets  were  still  full  of  people,  no 
longer  propelling  themselves  with  the  bustling  haste 
of  business,  but  leisurely  pacing  the  flagged  sidewalks, 
generally  in  parties  of  two  or  more,  enjoying  the  se- 
rene brightness  of  the  cold  winter  moon.  Bnt  Con 
O'Regan,  contenting  himself  with  a  glance  at  the  ra- 
diant orb  far  up  in  the  azure  dome  of  heaven,  and 
heaving  a  sigh  for  "  the  loved  ones  at  home,"  con- 
tinned  his  onward  way.  He  had  never  been  out  bo 
late  since  he  had  been  a  lodger  of  Mrs.  Maloney's, 
and  he  well  knew  that  the  good  woman  was  most 
particular  in  regard  to  the  hours  kept  by  her  board- 
ers. The  only  thing  that  induced  him  to  slacken  his 
speed  for  a  moment  was  an  appeal  for  charity,  made 
occasionally  at  the  corner  of  a  street,  or  from  the 
shelter  of  a  projecting  arch,  in  the  familiar  accents 


106 


CON  ©'beoan  ;  OF, 


of  his  own  beloved  land.    To  these  appeals  poor  Con 
could  never  turn  a  deaf  ear.    True,  he  was  accustom 
ed  to  hear  sundry  complaints,  even  from  those  who 
were  disposed  to  sympathize  with  the  Irish,  that         ^ 
they  wera  too  ready  to  take  up  "  the  begging  tr^de," 
and  that  such  a  propensity  could  only  be  ascribed  to 
downright  laziiiehb;  but,  somehow,  Con  had  a  vague 
idea  that  there  might  be  some  other  cause  for  this 
widespread    evil.     "Begging,"    thought    he,  "can 
never  be  a  pleasure  to  any  one— at  least  at  the  first       \ 
—no  one  will  ever  begin  to  beg  without  some  neces- 
sity, and  God  help  them  that  has  to  turn  to  it  in  a 
strange  country.    I  suppose  there  is  some  of  them 
that  stick  to  it  of  their  own  accord  after  a  while,  but 
that's  no  reason  that  I'd  refuse  a  copper  to  any  of 
them  when  I  have  it  about  me,  for,  who  knows,  but 
it  would  be  them  that  was  in  the  greatest  distress 
that  I'd  refuse.    At  ar.y  rate,  they're  most  all  of 
them  Irish,  and  there's  enough  to  be  hard  on  ihem 
without  me,  that's  their  own  flesh  and  blood !" 

He  was  just  engaged  in  some  such  soliloquy,  still 
hurrying  on,  when  suddenly  the  tinkling  soand  of 
the  fire-bell  rang  out  from  the  nearest  engine  house, 
and  the  entire  neighborhood  was  thrown  'mt'.>  com- 
motion. Doors  and  windows  were  hastily  opened, 
and  heads  peered  out  in  all  directions.  The  people 
In  the  streets  aaked  each  other  «  where  cm  the  fire 
be  ?"  and  for  some  time  no  one  seemed  To  know.  A* 
length  there  was  a  cry  of  "  Coulter,  V/ms  &  Or,— 
It's  there  the  fire  is  1" 


)F, 

eso  appeals  poor  Con 
■ue,  he  was  accustom 
ven  from  those  who 
v'ith  the  Irish,  that 
'  the  begging  trjide," 
i  only  be  ascribed  to 
ow,  Con  had  a  vague 
other  cause  for  this 
thought    he,  "can 
-at  least  at  the  first 
without  some  neces- 
as  to  turn  to  it  in  a 
ere  is  some  of  them 
ord  after  a  while,  but 
e  a  copper  to  any  of 
,  for,  who  knows,  but 
the  greatest  distress 
,  they're  most  all  of 
to  be  hard  on  them 
esh  and  blood !" 
fie  such  soliloquy,  still 
he  tinkling  soand  of 
nearest  engine  house, 
was  thrown  into  corn- 
were  hastily  opsncfl, 
rections.    TLc  people 
■  "where  ct,a  the  fire 
)  seemed  to  fenow.    A< 
Joulter,  V/ms  «fc  Or,— 


EMIORANT  LIFE  IS  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


107 


.  \ 


"  The  Lord  save  us !"  cried  Con,  "  is  it  our  ware- 
house— what's  to  be  done  at  all,  and  Mr.  Couller 
living  80  far  off— he'll  be  ruined  entirely  !"  and  off 
be  ran  at  full  speed  to  see  if  he  could  do  anything 
Ihat  would  serve  Mr.  Coulter,  for  in  that  moment 
of  danger  and  anxiety  Con's  grateful  heart  had  no 
room  for  other  than  bis  benefactor.     He  had  still  a 
confused  hope  that  the  fire  might  not  be  in  their 
premises  after  all,  but  on  turning  the  corner  of  a 
street  which  nearlj  fronted  the  warehouse,  his  hopes 
were  changed  to  dread  certainty,  for  the  flames 
were  bursting  from  the  windows  on  the  second 
Atorj.    Two  or  three  engines  were  already  at  work, 
and  others  were  heard  advancing  in  various  direc- 
tions; the  cries  of  the  firemen,  the  ringing  of  their 
respectiva  bells,  and  the  loud  vociferations  of  the 
dense  crowd  around,  all  conspiring  to  make  the 
scene  one  of  wildest  confusion,  and  Con  O'Regaa 
was  for  a  moment  stunned  by  his  own  consternation 
and    the    terrific    noise,   momentarily    increasing. 
Meanwhile  the  fire  continued  to  increase,  notwith- 
standing the  almost  superhuman  exertions  of  the 
fire  companies,  and  it  was  soon  found  that  there 
was  no  chance  of  saving  the  building;  the  hose  was 
thenceforward  chiefly  directed  towards  the  adjoin- 
ing warehouses  on  either  side  of  the  narrow  street, 
and  the  firemen  observed  with  the  utmost  coolness 
that  "  Coulter,  Pirns  A  Co.  had  no  chance."    The 
ladders  were  just  withdrawn  from  the  windows,  and 
the  building  was  almost  a  sheet  of  flame  when  th« 


108 


CON  o'beoam  ;  OB, 


agitated  voice  of  Mr.  Coulter  aroused  Con  from  hi» 
Btnpor.  The  old  gentleman  had  but  juBt  arrived, 
and  his  quick  eye  at  once  perceived  that  he  had 
nothing  to  hope. 

"  I  hope  you  are  well  insured,  Mr.  Coulter  ?"  said 
a  gentleman  who  recognized  the  senior  partner. 

"  Yes,  yes,  we're  all  right  there ,  but  there's  a 
large  sum  of  money  lying  on  my  desk  which  I  was 
too  late  to  deposit  yesterday— forgot  to  put  in  the 
safe— is  there  no  possibility  of  reaching  my  office?" 
and  he  walked  towards  a  door  which  opened  directly 
from  the  office  on  a  narrow  alley.  A  thrill  of  joy 
flushed  his  pallid  face— the  door  was  yet  safe,  and 
no  appearance  of  fire  in  that  end  of  the  building. 
Taking  the  key  from  his  pocket,  he  was  about  to 
put  it  in  the  look,  when  some  of  the  firemen  dragged 
him  back,  crying : 

"  Are  you  mad,  mister  ?  The  floor  above  that 
there  office— if  so  be  it  is  an  office— is  all  in  flames 
— it  may  fall  any  minute." 

"Then  all  is  lost!"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  in  a  Toic« 
scarcely  articulate. 

"  Not  yet,  sir,"  answered  one  from  behind,  and 
Con  O'Regan  stood  at  his  master's  side ;  "  give  me 
the  key,  sir,  and  I'll  venture  in  I" 

A  loud  mocking  laugh  was  heard  on  every  side, 
and  Mr.  Coulter  hesitated  to  give  the  key. 

"  It  would  be  death  to  you.  Con,— certain  death 
—no— no !  let  it  be  as  it  is  I  better  that  than  worsel" 

"  The  key,  sir,  the  key !"  still  persisted  Ooo,  and 


OR, 

Bused  Con  from  hi» 
J  but  juBt  arrived, 
leivod  that  he  had 

Mr.  Coulter  T  said 
senior  partner, 
ere,  but  there's  a 
y  desk  which  I  was 
Forgot  to  put  in  the 
eaching  my  office  f" 
liioh  opened  directly 
ey.  A  thrill  of  joy 
»r  was  yet  safe,  and 
ind  of  the  building, 
it,  he  was  about  to 
the  firemen  dragged 

he  floor  above  that 
See — is  all  in  flames 

.  Coulter,  in  a  voice 

le  from  behind,  and 

;er'8  side ;  "  give  m« 

I" 

beard  on  every  side, 

ve  the  key. 

Con, — certain  death 

ter  that  than  worse  I" 

1  persisted  Ooo,  and 


EMtGRANT  MFE  IN  THE  NKW  WORI,D. 


109 


he  literally  forced  it  from  Mr.  Coulter's  grasp. 
Then  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead 
and  breast,  he  breathed  an  inward  ejaculation  to 
Mary,  Vie  help  of  Christians,  and  dashing  aside  with 
piant  strength  those  who  would  have  held  him  back 
from  what  appeared  certaia  destruction,  he  gained 
the  little  private  door,  the  key  turned  in  the  lock 
obedient  to  his  hand,  and  he  stood  a  moment  on  the 
threshold  almost  suffocated  with  the  smoke  which 
burst  forth  in  a  dense  volume. 

'•  Blessed  Mother !"  cried  Con ;  "  I'll  never  be  able 
to  see  it — now  or  never  help  me  till  I  save  this 
money  for  my  good  master !"  And  he  resolutely 
kept  his  ground  at  the  door,  notwithstanding  the 
choking  and  blinding  smoke.  A  moment  and  the 
almost  palpable  vapor  cleared  away,  at  least  par- 
tially, so  that  Con  could  peer  into  the  office,  and 
sure  enough  on  the  desk  lay  a  small  parcel  which  he 
reached  with  a  single  bound,  and  thrusting  it  into 
his  breast  pocket,  dashed,  or  rather  threw  himself, 
throngh  the  doorway,  which  he  could  no  longer  see, 
for  the  smoke  rolled  out  thicker  and  darker  than 
ever.  Just  as  Con  gained  the  open  air,  where  he. 
would  have  fallen  exhausted  to  the  ground  had  not 
Mr.  Coulter  caught  him  in  bis  outstretched  arras, 
the  floor  above  the  office  gave  way,  and  fell  with  a 
deafening  crash.  A  wild  shout  rent  the  air  when  it 
was  known  that  the  venturous  Irishman  had  es- 
caped, for  such  heroic  devotion  could  not  fail  t« 


no 


CON  o'rkoan  ;  OP, 


elicit  admiration  even  from  a  people  who  are  ever 
unwilling  to  see  or  acknowledge  Irish  merit. 

"  lie's  a  d d  fine  fellow!"  cried  one. 

"  I  swear  he's  a  brick !"  said  another,  "  though  be 
is  a  Paddy  1" 

Leaving  the  mob  to  discuss  the  matter  thus  at 
their  leisure,  as  they  watched  the  decline,  or  rather 
the  extinction  of  the  fire,  Mr.  Coulter  led  Con 
gently  out  of  the  crowd  to  a  place  of  comparative 
quiet.  The  brave  fellow  had  not  yet  recovered 
himself  after  his  violent  exertion  both  of  mind  and 
body;  his  eyes  were  red  and  swollen,  and  he  had 
Btill  a  choking  sensation  about  the  throat ;  his  mind, 
too,  was  somewhat  confused,  yet  his  hand  mechani- 
cally clutched  the  precioug  parcel  in  the  breast- 
pocket of  his  round  pea-jacket,  and  his  first  act  on 
regaining  his  consciousness  was  to  hand  it  to  Mr. 
Coulter,  inquiring  if  that  was  the  one  he  meant. 

"  It  is,  Con,  the  very  one,"  said  his  employer,  in 
a  voice  trembling  with  emotion,  while  his  pallid 
brow  plainly  denoted  the  excruciating  anxiety  of 
the  last  few  minutes,  "  bat,  indeed,  indeed,  I  was 
quite  willing  to  let  it  go,  rather  than  have  you  en- 
danger your  life  !" 

"I  know  that  well  enough,  sir,"  replied  Con, 
"  but  I  wasn't  afoard  somehow  of  losin'  my  life,  for 
God  an'  the  Blessed  Virgin  were  with  me,  an'  I 
owed  you  a  good  turn,  sir,  this  many  a  day.  Thank 
God,  you  have  the  money  safe  anyhow  I    I'll  bo 


,  ^ 


iple  who  are  ever 

rish  merit. 

ied  one. 

)ther,  "  though  he 

le  matter  thus  at 
I  decline,  or  rather 
Coulter  led  Con 
;e  of  comparative 
ot  yet  recovered 
both  of  mind  and 
ollen,  and  he  had 
throat ;  his  mind, 
his  hand  mechani- 
cel  in  the  breast- 
id  his  first  set  on 
to  hand  it  to  Mr. 
one  he  meant, 
d  his  employer,  in 
,  while  his  pallid 
eiating  anxiety  of 
led,  indeed,  I  was 
than  have  you  en- 
sir,"  replied  Con, 
f  losin'  my  life,  for 
re  with  me,  an'  I 
any  a  day.  Thank 
anyhow  I    I'll  bo 


^ 


EMIGRANT.  LIFE  IN  THB  NEW  WOHLD. 


Ill 


biddin'  you  good  night  now,  Mr.  Coulter  1"  he 
added,  as  they  reached  that  gentleman's  door. 

"  I  would  ask  you  in  to  take  some  refreshment, 
Con,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  as  he  warmly  shook  his 
hand,  "  only  that  one  of  my  daughters  has  a  fever, 
which,  I  fear,  is  contagious.  It  would  hardly  be 
prudent  for  you  to  enter.  Con  O'Regan,  you  have 
rendered  me  a  great  service  this  night  at  the  immi> 
nent  peril  of  you.*  life,  and  if  I  am  spared  you  shall 
never  want  a  friend — you  shall  find  that  old  Sam. 
Coulter  is  not  ungrateful !" 

Con  replied  that  he  had  done  nothing  but  hiii 
duty,  and  bidding  his  master  once  more  good  night, 
he  walked  away  with  a  lightsome  heart. 


tmmemim/f'^^tt^^^' 


ui 


CON   o'rKOAN  :   (ML 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Earlt  next  morning  there  was  a  violent  ringing 
»t  Mr.  Coult-er's  door-bell.  After  a  short  delay  the 
door  was  opened  by  Mrs.  Coulter  herself,  Btill  in 
her  nightcap,  and  looking  as  though  she  had  been 
a  watcher  through  the  long  hours  of  night.  It  waa 
Mr.  Piins  who  stood  without,  and  his  anxious  in- 
quiry for  Mr.  Coulter  was  responded  to  on  the  part 
of  the  lady  by  en  invitation  to  walk  in  and  sit  down. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of  our  misfortune,  Mr. 
Pirns  ?"  said  Mrs.  Coulter,  in  a  listless  tone. 

"  Oh  !  of  course — it  was  just  about  that  I  came 
this  morning." 

"  And  you  were  not  afraid  to  come  in  ?"  inquired 
the  lady,  in  unfeigned  surprise. 

"Afraid? — why,  certainly  not! — what  have  I  to 
fear?" 

"  Well,  you  know,  some  folk  are  dreadfully  afraid 
of  typhus  fever — however,  I  am  glad  to  find  that 
you  are  not  of  the  number.  Excuse  me  a  moment 
—I  will  apprise  Mr.  Coulter  of  your  friendly  visit. 
We  have  no  help  just  now,  as  you  may  perceive,  for 
neither  of  my  girls  could  bo  induced  to  remain  one 


EMIGRANT  MFE  IM  THK  KKW  WORLD. 


iia 


[I. 

u  a  violent  ringing 
sr  a  abort  delay  the 
Iter  herself,  still  iu 
OQgh  she  had  been 
PB  of  night.  It  waa 
ind  hia  anxious  in- 
aded  to  on  the  part 
ilk  in  and  sit  down, 
oar  misfortune,  Mr. 
istless  tone, 
about  that  I  came 

come  in  ?"  inquired 

,1 — what  have  I  to 

ire  dreadfully  afraid 
n  glad  to  find  that 
Kcuse  me  a  moment 
your  friendly  visit. 
»u  may  perceive,  for 
uoed  to  remain  one 


day  in  the  honse,  after  the  doctore  had  decided  that 
poor  Rachel  had  typhus.  Then  this  unlucky  fire 
happening  at  such  a  time — what  a  dreary  world  it 
is,  Mr.  Pirns ! — happily  its  tribulations  cannot  last 
forever !" 

Thus  moralizing,  she  was  about  to  quit  the  r<70B) 
after  opening  the  shutters,  when  Mr.  Pims  started 
to  his  feet,  or  rather  recovered  the  possession  of 
those  members  before  his  hinder  end  had  touched 
the  chair.  In  two  steps  he  reached  the  door  lead- 
ing to  the  hall. 

"  Did  I  understand  you  right,  Mrs.  Coulter  ?"  he 
asked,  in  a  loud,  excited  voice — "  is  there  typhus 
fever  in  the  house  ?" 

"The  doctors  say  so,"  replied  Mrs.  Coulter,  turn- 
ing round  in  some  surprise ;  "  I  thought  you  siud 
you  knew." 

"  Oh  !  I  meant  the  fire — good  morning,  Mrs.  Coul- 
ter ! — don't  trouble  yourself  to  go  up  stairs — I  can 
see  Mr.  Coulter  at  another  time — good  morning !" 
and  fearful  of  being  delayed  by  further  interroga- 
tion, he  hastily  made  his  retreat. 

Mrs.  Coulter,  musing  on  the  selfishness  of  the 
world,  and  heaving  a  sigh  for  the  promised  millenium 
of  universal  charity,  was  passing,  as  it  were,  me- 
chanically through  the  folding  doors  into  the  baok- 
parlor,  when  she  was  electrified  by  the  apparition 
of  her  husband  standing  right  in  the  doorway.  H« 
was    evidently    chuckling    ovei    soma    hnmoroM 


114 


CON  o'RroAN  ;  OR, 


thought,  and  greeted  his  grave  helpmate  with  a  nod 
and  a  smile. 

"  So  you've  frightened  him  off,"  said  he ;  "  if  you 
had  laid  a  plan  to  get  rid  of  him  this  morning,  Pru 
dence,  you  couldn't  have  succaeded  better.  Being  a 
spiritual  brother  of  yours,  my  dear  I  suppose  you 
counted  on  him  in  this  emergency." 

"  Me  count  on  him,  Mr.  Coulter  ?  I  did  no  such 
thing.  I  hope  I  can  make  allowance  for  human  frail- 
ty, though  I  confess  I  did  not  expect  to  find  Mr. 
Pims  quite  so  selfish." 

'■'  Selfish,  Prudence!"  repeated  her  husband ;  "  why, 
how  can  you  talk  of  selfishness  in  such  a  case  ?  You 
who  but  a  few  weeks  since  sent  a  faithful  servant  to 
an  hospital  as  fast  as  you  could  get  her  out  of  the 
house,  and  all  for  fear  of  a  certain  infectious  disease 
from  which  the  poor  girl  was  as  free  as  you  yourself 
were.  For  shame,  Mrs.  Coulter!  don't  reflect  en 
poor  Piifls  for  a  failing  to  which  we  are  all  prone 
— the  godly  as  well  as  the  ungodly.  But  -how  is 
poor  Rachel  this  morning  ?  I  was  in  to  see  her  as  I 
passed,  but  she  seems  in  a  kind  of  slumber.  Han- 
nah was  sitting  by  her,  and  she  looks  as  though  she 
were  hardly  able  to  hold  up  her  head,  poor  thing." 

"  No  more  she  is,  Samuel.  I  fear  she  will  be  the 
next  struck  down,  though  indeed  I  feel  very  poorly 
myself,"  and  she  placed  her  hand  on  her  high  narrow 
forehead. 

"  But  what  about  Rachel— do  you  think  she  is  aoj 
better?" 


6 


c 

I 

0 

0 

b 

V 

d 

V 

k 


OR, 

helpmate  with  a  nod 

oflf,"  said  he ;  "  if  you 
im  this  morning,  Pru 
ided  better.  Being  a 
dear  I  suppose  you 
Qcy." 

Iter?  I  did  no  such 
ranee  for  human  frail- 
<t  expect  to  find  Mr, 

i  her  husband ;  "  why, 
in  such  a  case  ?  You 
t  a  faithful  servant  to 
Id  get  her  out  of  the 
tain  infectious  disease 
3  free  as  you  yourself 
Iter  I  don't  reflect  on 
lich  we  are  all  prone 
igodly.  But -how  ia 
was  in  to  see  her  as  I 
d  of  slumber.  Han- 
5  looks  as  though  she 
r  head,  poor  thing." 
fear  she  will  be  the 
id  I  feel  very  poorly 
d  on  her  high  narrow 

yoQ  think  she  is  any 


EMIGR-INT  LIFE  IS  THE  NKW  WORLD. 


115 


"Not  much — if  any!"  replied  the  fond  mother; 
"  dear  child,  what  is  to  become  of  her  should  I  sink 
under  this  load  of  trouble  and  fatigue?  Doctor 
Richards  promised  to  send  a  eick-nurse  last  evening, 
but  you  see  there  has  none  come,  and  here  am  I  try- 
ing to  do  all  myself!  What  an  ungrateful  hussy  that 
Leah  was  to  leave  me  at  such  a  time  ! — bad  as  the 
Irish  are,  Winny  would  scarce  have  acted  so,  at  least 
she  could  not  have  acted  worse.  That  was  not  what 
I  expected  from  a  respectable,  God-fearing  girl  like 
Leah  I" 

"  Oh !  of  course  not,  my  dear !  but  you  see  it's  just 
as  I  told  you  before — typhus  fever  has  no  attractions 
even  for  the  elect — your  religious  people  are  always 
praying  for  '  kingdom  come,'  but  they  never  want 
it  near  at  hand.  If  they  were  sure  of  going  to 
heaven  right  off  in  a  hand-basket  they  would  rather 
stay  here  and  pray  for  it.  By  Jove !  they  would  so  I 
— never  expect  one  of  them,  then,  to  face  typhus  fever 
or  any  other  fever  that  might  send  them  across  the 
bourne  into  the  other  world.  But  get  mo  a  cup  of 
coffee.  Prudence,  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  I'll  sally 
out  in  quest  of  a  nurse.  Unfortunately  I  have  no 
business  to  attend  to  to-day,  except  to  pay  some  bills 
which  I  may  thank  Con  O'Regan  for  being  able  to 
do." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  cried  the  anxious 
wife,  stopping  shi/it  in  her  quick  march  towards  the 
kitoben  where  Hannah  had  made  a  fire  some  time  be> 


11« 


CON   o'RKO'N  ;   OR, 


fore  ;  "  what  has  Con  O'Regan  to  do  with  your 
bills?" 

"  He  has  everything  to  do  with  them  on  the  pre. 
sent  occasion,"  was  the  calm  reply,  and  then  the 
warm-hearted  old  gentleman  proceeded  to  give  his 
■wife  a  brief  acconnt  of  Con's  generous  devotion  on 
the  previons  night.  Mrs.  Coulter  listened  with  a 
look  of  blank  astonishment,  and  when  she  had  heard 
nil,  she  heaved  a  heavy  sigh. 

"  Well,  Prudence  !"  said  her  husband,  "  what  do 
yon  think  of  Con,  now  ?— T  think  I  shall  have  a 
knock-down  argument  for  the  future  when  fighting 
the  battles  of  the  Irish  !— ha !  ha !  ha !  let  me  catch 
Pims  or  Wood  coming  out  with  their  little  narrow 
prejudices,  and,  by  my  word  !  they  shall  hear  it  in 
both  ears !' 

"  He  must  be  a  smart  fellow  that  O'Regan  !"  was 
Mrs.  Coulter's  comment,  as  she  left  the  room  on 
culinary  purpose  bent. 

"  He  must  be  a  smart  fellow  that  O'Regan  !*•  re- 
peated the  husband,  mimicking  the  peculiar  tone 
and  accent  of  his  wife.  "  Ah !  you're  a  precious 
Bet  of  heartless  hypocrites,  you  canting  saints  !  not 
a  particle  of  generous  feeling  in  your  icy  breasts  ! 
Heaven  help  the  warm-hearted,  impulsive,  entbusi- 
astio  race  who  will  persist  in  toiling  for  such  a 
people — a  people  so  obstinately  prejudiced  against 
them,  so  diametrically  opposed  to  them  in  every 
characteristic  feature.  But  I,  at  least,  will  do  them 
justice—ay  !'  and  what  is  more,  I  will  bring  Madam 


OR, 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORt.n. 


117 


fan  to  do  with  yoM 

'ith  them  on  the  pre* 
reply,  and  then  the 
proceeded  to  give  his 
generous  devotion  on 
)ulter  listened  with  a 
d  when  she  had  heard 

r  hnsband,  "  what  do 
think  I  shall  have  a 
future  when  fighting 
ha !  ha !  let  me  catch 
th  their  little  narrow 
they  shall  hear  it  in 

'  that  O'Regan  !"  was 
jhe  lefb  the  room  on 

V  that  O'Regan  !*'  re- 
ig  the  peculiar  tone 
1 !  you're  a  precious 
u  canting  saints  !  not 
in  your  icy  breasts ! 
d,  impulsive,  enthusi- 
Q  toiling  for  snob  a 
y  prejudiced  against 
id  to  them  in  every 
at  least,  will  do  them 
,  I  will  bring  Madam 


Coulter  to  give  them  a  portion  of  their  merit  before 
I  am  many  months  older  I" 

Whilst  his  breakfast  was  in  preparation,  the  aifeo- 
tionate  old  man  ascended  to  the  sick  room  of  his 
daughter,  whom  he  found  still  in  the  same  feverish 
slumber,  with  her  cheeks  like  two  damask  roses, 
her  eyes  half  open,  and  her  breathing  short  and 
irregular.  Making  up  the  small  hand  which  lay 
outside  the  bedclothes,  he  found  it  dry  and  burning, 
and  his  heart  sank  within  him.  Turning  to  Han- 
nah, who  had  been  watching  him  wiih  scrutinizing 
eyes,  he  shook  his  head  and  murmured  : 

"Your  sister  is  very  low,  Hannah! — very  low, 
indeed! — but  this  sleep  may  do  her  good."  His 
heart  was  full  as  he  glanced  again  at  the  unconscious 
sleeper,  then  whispering  to  Hannah  to  take  good 
care  of  her  sister  and  that  he  would  find  some  one 
to  relieve  her,  he  hastened  to  place  the  door  be> 
twecn  him  and  an  object  that  harrowed  his  very 
soul. 

"  Now  if  Con  should  venture  in  after  all,"  was 
Mr.  Coulter's  soliloquy,  as  he  tramped  heavily  down 
the  stairs,  and  when  he  heard  a  modest,  hesitating 
ring  at  the  door,  just  as  he  had  seated  himself  at 
the  table,  he  said  exultingly  to  his  wife,  when  return^ 
ing  from  the  door  she  announced  Con  : 

"There  now,  Prudence,  you  see  Con  O'Regan 
comes  in  spite  of  the  fever— I  knew  he  would. 
Con,"  he  called  out,  "  won't  you  come  inside  ?" 

*'No,  air,  thank  you,  I'd  rather  stay  here/'  ra 


118 


CON  o'kegan  ;  OR, 


plieJ  Con,  from  the  hall.  "  I  just  called,  Mr. 
Coulter,  to  see  how  tho  young  lady  is  this  raornjn', 
an'  to  know  if  you'd  have  anything  for  me  to  do — 
but  I'm  in  no  hurry,  sir,  I'll  wait  as  long  as  yon 
like." 

"Have  you  got  your  breakfast,  Con?"  v/ab  the 
next  question. 

"  Oh,  yis,  sir,  I  got  my  breakfast  an  hour  igo." 

"  Very  well,  Con,  I'll  be  oui,  ("ilh  you  as  soon  as 
I  take  a  cup  of  coffee." 

Mrs.  Coulter  hastily  swallowed  a  few  monthfiils  of 
the  grateful  beverage,  maintaining  the  while  a  dig- 
nified  silence,  and  muttering  something  about  Ra- 
chel, she  left  the  room,  reminding  her  husband  to 
"be  sure  and  see  after  the  nurse." 

"  And  that  same  is  no  trifling  task,"  said  Mr. 
Coulter ;  "  but  something  must  be  done,  as  this  good 
doctor  of  ours  seems  to  take  the  thing  so  coolly." 

"Now,  Con,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  as  he  took  his  hat 
from  the  stand  in  the  hall,  "  I  want  you  to  bring  me 
to  the  house  where  Winny  boards." 

Con  looked  surprised,  but  he  answered  promptly, 
"  An'  to  be  sure,  I  will,  sir,  though  ij^deed  it's  not  a 
place  for  the  likes  of  you— it's  down  in  a  cellar,  sir, 
in  Hope  street  here  beyond." 

"  That  is  of  no  consequence,"  said  Mr.  Coulter. 
"I  wish  to  see  Winny,  so  just  go  aliead,  will  you  ?" 

Con  said  no  more,  and  the  pair  walked  on  in  silence, 
Con  always  managing  to  keep  a  few  feet  ahead  of 
his  employor,  deeming  it  disrespectful  to  walk  by  hit 


m, 

I  juRt  called,  Mr. 
lady  is  this  mornin', 
liing  for  me  to  do — 
rait  as  long  as  yoa 

Mt,  Con?"  \yab  the 

'ast  ati  hour  igo." 
•Vfith  you  as  soon  as 

d  a  few  monthfiils  of 
ing  the  while  a  dig- 
)metbing  about  Ra- 
Ung  her  husband  to 

ng  task,"  said  Mr. 
e  done,  as  this  good 
I  thing  BO  coolly." 
r,  as  he  took  his  hat 
int  yoa  to  bring  me 
dfl." 

inswered  promptly, 
gh  indeed  it's  not  a 
own  in  a  cellar,  sir, 

'  said  Mr.  Coulter. 
>  ahead,  will  you  ?" 
valked  on  in  silence, 
a  few  feet  ahead  of 
clful  to  walk  by  hit 


KIIICBAST  LIFE  IN  THE  .VEW  WORLD. 


119 


side.  After  winding  through  several  streets  of  that 
much  intricate  and  mazy  ciiy,  Con  turned  iuto  Hope 
street,  which  was  once  inhabited  by  the  upper 
classes,  until  the  Irish  liaving  obtained  a  settlement 
tliere,  they  were,  as  is  usual  in  New  England  cities, 
speedily  leA.  to  themselves.  It  Las  gradually  be- 
come a  sort  of  Irish  colony,  in  the  heart  of  the  Pu- 
ritan city.  Its  inhabitants  are  principally,  indeed  al- 
most exclusively,  of  the  humbler  classes,  most  of 
uhom  are  dependent  on  their  daily  labor  for  the 
means  of  living.  The  street  is  literally  swarming 
with  inhabitants,  many  of  the  bouses  being  very  large, 
and  all  crowded  from  garret  to  cellar. 

As  Mr,  Coulter  gazed  on  the  troops  of  little  ragged 
children  sporting  at  every  door,  in  the  happy  care- 
lessness of  their  age,  and  watched  their  fresh  rosy 
faces,  and  the  precocious  intelligence  of  their  si\y, 
startled  glances,  bis  kind  heart  was  touched  to  its 
very  core.  "  Merciful  Heaven  I"  said  he,  gaining 
Con's  side,  by  a  double  step  or  two,  "  what  a  popu- 
lation there  is  here — a  population  fit  for  anything  I 
here  they  are,  living  by  hundreds  in  squalid  po^. 
erty,  scarce  knowing  to-day  how  they  may  live  to- 
morrow 1  what  can  infatuate  them  so  ?" 

"  What  can  they  do,  sir  ?"  said  Con,  respectfully. 

"  Do !  why  let  them  go  out  and  scatter  over  the 
country — there  are  millions  of  broad  acres  within  the 
territory  of  this  Republic,  awaiting  the  woodman's 
axe  and  the  tiller's  spade — lands  which  could  be  had 
fur  %  very  BmaJI  purchase.    Now  year  people  are 


ISO 


CON    O'RROAN  !   OH, 


mostly  given  to  agricultural  parsu'.toathome,  and  it 
18  strange  that  they  do  not  make  an  effort  to  get 
farms  here." 

Con  listened  with  intense  in*.erest,  and  caught 
eagerly  at  Mr.  Conlter's  proposition  concerning  the 
waste  lands.  "Why,  sir,"  said  he,  "these  are  the 
lands,  I  suppose,  that  we  used  to  hear  so  much  about 
at  home.  Where  are  they,  if  you  please,  sir  P— T 
thought  all  the  country  round  here  was  settled,  and 
the  land  taken  up  long  ago." 

"  So  it  is,  Con,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  smiling ;  "  but 
the  lands  I  mean  are  away  out  West  in  some  of  the 
new  States,  such  as  Wisconsin,  Iowa  and  others. 
In  fact,  there  are  vast  tracts  of  country  still  unoccu- 
pied in  all  the  Western  St::tes.*  But  the  trouble 
is,"  he  added,  musingly,  «  how  could  those  poor  peo- 
ple get  there,  or,  being  there,  how  could  they  live 
till  such  times  as  they  had  cleared  enough  of  land  to 
raise  crops?  If  lihey  had  only  the  means  of  living 
for  one  year !  the  thing  I  fear  is  hopeless  I"  he  con- 
cluded, with  a  heavy  sigh. 

Here  Con  atopped  in  front  of  a  four-story  house 
which  might  once  have  been  the  handsome  residence 
of  some  wealthy  merchant.  The  cellar  into  which 
Con  led  his  employer  had  been  lately  whitewashed, 

♦The  reader  must  remember  that  this  refers  to  a  period  ten 
years  back.  Unfortunately  the  same  could  not  be  said  now. 
The  Western  Htatoa  will  very  soon  be  as  thickly  settled  as  any 
In  the  Union, 


OR, 

irsuitq  at  home,  and  it 
lake  an  effort  to  get 

interest,  and  caught 
ntion  concerning  the 
1  he,  "these  are  the 
>  hear  so  much  about 
you  please,  sir? — T 
lere  was  settled,  aud 

lulter,  smiling ;  "  but 
West  in  some  of  the 
a,  Iowa  and  others, 
country  still  unoccu- 
i*  But  the  trouble 
ould  those  poor  peo- 
bow  could  they  live 
Bd  enough  of  land  to 
the  means  of  living 
8  hopeless  I"  he  con- 

f  a  four-story  house 
handsome  residence 
e  cellar  into  which 
lately  whitewashed, 

is  refers  to  a  period  ten 
conid  not  bo  said  now. 
18  thickly  settled  as  any 


tMIORANT  LIFE  IN  THB  NEW  WORLD. 


lai 


tnd  presented  an  appearance  of  comparative  neat- 
ness and  comfort. 

At  the  moment  of  Mr.  Coulter's  arrival,  Winny 
was  making  up  the  beds  while  Mrs.  Kergen  sat  by 
the  stove  dressing  the  baby,  now,  like  its  mother, 
much  fresher  and  fairer  than  when  we  first  saw 
them.  A  general  commotion  followed  the  an- 
nouncement of  the  children  that  "  there  was  a  gen- 
tleman comin'  down  the  steps  with  Con  O'Regan," 
and  Winny  came  forward  just  in  time  to  receive  Mr. 
Coulter  vath  a  curtsey  and  a  smile,  her  face  all  in 
a  glow  with  pleasure  and  surprise.  But  Mr.  Coulter 
refused  to  go  further  than  the  door,  saying,  with 
characteristic  bluntness ; 

"  I  suppose  you  haven't  heard  of  Rachel's  illness?" 

"  Indeed,  I  did  hear  of  it,  sir,"  replied  Winny ; 
"  Con  told  me  last  night,  an'  heart  sorry  I  was  to 
hear  it,  too.  Is  there  any  change  for  the  better  this 
mornin'  ?" 

"  Not  the  least  sign  of  change,  Winny,"  said  Mr. 
Coulter,  sadly,  "  and  I  do  not  expect  any  for  <orae 
time,  Winny,"  he  added,  abruptly  after  a  short 
pause,  "are  you  afraid  of  fever  P 

Winny's  pale  cheek  grew  a  shade  paler,  and  her 
voice  trembled  perceptibly  as  she  replied :  "  Well ! 
sir,  I  can't  say  but  what  I  am— there's  no  use  in 
sayin'  what's  not  true— hem !"  clearinp'  her  throat 
vigorously,  "  but  if  it  was  Gbd's  will  for  me  to  be  in 
che  way  of  it,  I  hope  He'd  give  me  strength  to  do 
mj  duty." 


'  £iHlilllll7«1MllUniliWiMtt 


128 


CON  o'reoak  ;  OR, 


"  Winny,"  said  Mr.  Coalter,  "  I  came  hers  to  aek 
a  great  favor  of  you — will  you  come  and  take  care 
of  Rachel  till  she  gets  bettor — or — ,"  his  voice  fal- 
tereil,  but  Winny  came  to  hia  rel'.of: 

"  I'll  go,  Mr.  Coulter — I  will,  sir,  if  I  was  sure  of 
takin'  the  fever  myself.  Miss  Rachel  shan't  want 
some  one  to  mind  her  while  I'm  able  to  do  it."  As 
she  spoke,  her  cheek  had  an  unnatural  glow,  and  her 
eyes  flashed  with  unwonted  brightness.  Winny 
was  making  a  desperate  effort,  for,  in  her  heart,  she 
had  the  full  measure  of  terror  wherewith  the  Irish 
peasantry  regard  typhus — or  "  the  fever,"  as  they 
emphatically  call  it.  But  still,  within  the  deep  re- 
cesses of  that  generous  heart,  there  was  a  sensible 
emotion  of  joy  and  gratitude  that  sho  was  at  last 
enabled  to  show  her  kind  old  master  how  deeply  she 
felt  his  goodness  to  herself  and  her  brother.  She 
glanced  at  Con,  whose  ruddy  cheek  had  become 
almost  as  bloodless  as  her  own  during  the  foregoing 
brief  colloquy.  His  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and  he 
Btood  leaning  against  the  door-post,  with  a  coante- 
nanoe  expressive  of  strong  inward  emotion.  Mrs. 
Bergen,  in  her  turn,  called  out,  in  a  raised  and  ex- 
cited tone : 

*'  Why,  the  Lord  bless  me,  Winny,  sure  7jou  can't 
take  upon  yon  to  mind  the  young  lady,  an'  you  only 
jist  gettin'  up  yourself,  as  a  body  may  say,  from  a 
sickbed?  Depend  upon  it,  Winny,  you'd  be  knocked 
down  yourself  before  one  week  went  over  your  head. 
Hut,  tut,  girl,  don't  be  makin'  a  fool  of  yourself,  an* 


I  came  hers  to  ask 
come  and  take  care 
-or — ,"  his  voice  fal* 
!i:of: 

sir,  if  I  was  Bure  of 
Rachel  shan't  want 
,  able  to  do  it."  As 
atnral  glow,  and  her 
)rightne88.  Winny 
'or,  in  her  heart,  she 
wherewith  the  Irish 
the  fever,"  as  they 
within  the  deep  re- 
here  was  a  sensible 
hat  she  was  at  last 
ister  how  deeply  she 
I  her  brother.  She 
cheek  had  become 
during  the  foregoing 
full  of  tears,  and  he 
•post,  with  a  counte- 
'ard  emotion.  Mrs. 
,  in  a  raised  and  ex.< 

Hnny,  sore  you  can't 
ig  lady,  an'  you  only 
)dy  may  say,  from  a 
iy,  you'd  be  knocked 
«rent  over  your  head, 
fool  of  yourself,  un« 


EMIfiRAN'T  I.IFK  TN'  THE  N'EW  WORIJ). 


123 


dertakin'  what  you're  no  more  fit  for  than  this  child 
on  my  knee !" 

"What  do  yon  say.  Con  .'"  inquired  Mr.  Coulter, 
suddenly  turning  to  Con,  whose  silence  struck  him 
as  remarkable.  "  You  see  I  didn't  tell  you  what  I 
wanted  with  Winny — I  knew  you  would  hear  it 
soon  enough.  Do  you  think  it  advisable  for  Winny 
to  undertake  this  ofBce?" 

"  Well !  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  Con,  slowly,  with 
his  eyes  still  fixed  on  his  sister's  face, — "  if  there 
could  be  any  one  else  got,  I'm  afeard  she's  hardly 
strong  enough — but  then  if  there's  no  one  else  to  do 
it,  why,  of  course,  I'm  not  the  man  to  advise  her 
ngain  it.  We  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude,  Mr. 
Coulter,  and  with  God's  help,  it  must  be  paid." 
Still  he  turned  away,  and  took  out  his  red  handker- 
chief. 

Mr.  Coultev  said  not  a  word,  but  he  took  Winny's 
hand  and  then  Con's  in  both  his,  and  pressed  them 
with  almost  convulsive  energy,  while  the  tears  fell 
unheeded  from  his  eyes. 

Making  a  sign  to  Mrs.  Bergen,  who  was  about  to 
put  in  another  remonstrance,  Winny  told  Mr.  Coul- 
ter that  she  would  go  to  his  house  just  as  soon  as 
she  could  get  her  little  things  in  readiness,  with 
which  assurance  he  was  perfectly  satisfied,  and  went 
away,  followed  by  Con,  who  hastily  shook  hands 
with  Winny,  and  bade  her  farewell  in  a  tone  of 
touching  Badness,  as  though  he  feared  he  was  resign- 
ing her  to  almost  oertaio  death.    Winny  endeavored 


*   * 


124 

td  re-assnre  bim  with  the  whispered  words :  "  God 
is  good,  Con — He  never  failed  us  in  our  need,  an' 
neither  will  He  now  I" 

"  It's  true  for  you,  Winny,  an'  it's  weak  faith  that's 
in  me  or  I'd  have  thought  of  that  before."  And  bo 
saying  Cun  O'Regan  bounded  up  the  steps  afler  his 
employer  with  a  lighter  heart  and  a  more  hopeful 
spirit.  Never  was  faith  more  strong,  never  was 
piety  more  cheerful  than  in  the  soul  of  the  genuine 
ohild  of  Erin  as  yet  uncontaminated  by  the  pesti- 
lential breath  of  worldly  skepticism  inhaled  in  foreign 
climes.  Nurtured  in  the  religious  atmosphere  of  an 
eminently  Christian  land,  faith  is  from  the  beginning 
the  sensible  basis  of  all  their  actions — by  its  light 
they  are  wont  to  steer  their  course,  by  its  strength 
they  are  raised  above  the  storms  of  fate,  and  by  its 
sweetness  they  are  consoled  in  the  unexampled 
misery  which  is  too  often  their  lot. 

No  sooner  had  Con  disappeared  in  the  wake  of  his 
employer  than  Winny  was  assailed  by  a  shower  of 
fViendly  abuse  from  Mrs.  Bergen,  while  the  children 
set  up  a  onorus  of  lamentation  at  the  prospect  of 
losing  Winny.  The  former,  and  more  formidable 
assailant  Winny  silenced  with  an  appeal  tu  Mrs.  Ber- 
gen's own  feelings. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Bergen,  dear,  what  makes  you  talk 
that  way? — you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  if  you 
were  in  my  place,  free  to  go  where  you  like — with- 
out chick  or  ohild,  or  one  in  the  world,"  here  her 
Voice  faltered,  as  the  remembrance  of  her  recent  loM 


;  OR, 

spered  words :  "  God 
d  us  ia  our  need,  an' 

i'  it's  weak  faith  that's 
hat  before."  And  bo 
up  the  steps  afler  his 
,  and  a  more  hopeful 
e  strong,  never  was 
iS  soul  of  the  genuine 
ninated  by  the  pesti- 
sism  inhaled  in  foreign 
iouB  atmosphere  of  an 
is  from  the  beginning 
actions — by  its  light 
ourse,  by  its  strength 
tns  of  fate,  and  by  its 
in  the  unexampled 
r  lot. 

ired  in  the  wake  of  his 
ailed  by  a  shower  of 
en,  while  the  ohildren 
a  at  the  prospect  of 
find  more  formidable 
in  appeal  to  Mrs.  Ber- 

what  makes  yon  talk 
as  I  do  that  if  you 
here  you  like — with- 
ihe  world,"  here  ber 
inoe  of  her  recent  loii 


KMIORANT  MFE  IH  THK  NEW  WORLD. 


125 


, 


crossed  her  mind,  •'  without  one  in  the  world  only 
just  Con,  that's  well  able  to  do  for  himself,  an'  with 
such  a  load  of  obligation  on  you  as  I  have — you  know 
right  well  that  you'd  go  yourself  with  a  heart  an'  a 
half.  An'  so  will  I,  please  God,  if  I  were  to  lose  my 
life  for  it.  Maybe  I'd  never  die  in  a  better  time, 
anyhow." 

Mrs.  Bergen  was  at  last  obliged  to  give  in,  and 
the  children's  clamorous  wailing  was  speedily  and 
effectually  stopped  by  the  promise  of  "  lots  of  candy" 
when  Winny  came  again,  "an'  God  knows  when 
that'll  be,"  she  added  in  an  under  tone,  as  she  hastily 
made  a  bundle  of  the  few  things  she  intended  taking 
with  her. 

About  half  an  hour  after,  Winny  O'Regan  bade 
farewell  to  her  faithful  friend,  who  could  not  restrain 
her  tears  as  she  held  up  the  baby  for  her  to  kiss. 
The  other  children  from  Jane  down  to  little  Jim  all 
gathered  round  her,  each  claiming  a  special  "  good- 
bye," and  Winny  had  no  smdl  trouble  in  extricating 
herself  from  their  affectionate  grasp  as  they  hung 
around  her.  On  reaching  the  door  she  turned  and 
said  once  more;  'Good  bye,  Mrs.  Bergen,  give  my 
best  respects  to  Paul,  and  tell  him  if  I  live  I'll  not 
forget  either  of  you.  If  I  die— why  I'll  remember 
you  in  heaven — when  I  get  there.  Pray  for  me  Mrs. 
Bergen,  an'  make  the  children  pray,  too." 

Mrs.  Bergen  would  have  answered  with  a  fervent 
promise,  but  Winny  was  already  gone.  She  repaired 
at  once  to  Mr.  Coulter's.    Uaving  rung  the  bell  witb 


lie 


CON  o'regan  ;  Oh, 


an  unsteady  hand,  she  waited  patiently  for  a  few 
minutes,  not  venturing  to  ring  a  second  time,  when 
the  door  was  opened  by  Mrs.  Coulter,  who,  on  seeing 
her  there  with  her  bundle  in  her  hand,  mauifested 
some  surprise. 

"  Why,  Winny,  is  it  possible  that  you  are  coming 
back  ? — I  really  thought  you  were  still  in  the  hospi- 
tal.    Do  come  in  I" 

Wlnny  entered  accordingly,  saying  as  she  did  so  : 
"  No,  ma^am,  it's  three  weeks  to-day  since  I  left  the 
hospital." 

"  Why,  do  tell ! — I'm  surprised  that  Mr.  Coulter 
never  told  me."  It  was  not  at  all  surprising,  how- 
ever, for  the  good  lady  had  never  once  asked  for 
Winny  within  the  time  specified. 

"  And  so  you  are  come  to  stay."  Winny  answered 
in  the  aiBrmative. 

"  Well !  I  must  say  it  is  rather  fortunate  that  you 
came  just  now,  for  I  have  no  help  at  present — Leah 
is  gone  some  days  ago,  and  dear  Rachel  is  very  sick 
indeed.  Just  go  up  to  your  own  room  and  put 
away  your  things— I  hope  you  have  washed  them 
before  you  came." 

Winny  colored  deeply  and  said :  "  I'd  do  that  for 
my  own  sake,  Mrs.  Coulter.  I'm  sure  you  never 
found  me  with  my  clothes  dirty." 

"  Oh !  not  at  all,  Winny — of  course  I  do  not  mean 
that.  But  you  know  there  are  some  of  those  low 
Irish  lodging-hodses  anything  but  clean." 

Winny  broke  in  rather  abruptly  and  with  an  unu 


Oh, 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORM). 


121 


patiently  for  a  few 
a  second  time,  when 
oulter,  who,  on  seeiny 
her  hand,  manifested 

I  that  you  are  coming 
i'ere  still  in  the  hospi- 

saying  as  she  did  so  : 
0-day  since  I  left  the 

sed  that  Mr.  Coulter 

t  all  surprising,  how- 

lever  once  asked  for 

5d. 

ly."  Winny  answered 

ler  fortunate  that  you 
ielp  at  present — Leah 
ar  Rachel  is  very  sick 
'  own  room  and  put 
>u  have  washed  them 

aid :  « I'd  do  that  for 
I'm  sure  you  never 

y." 

course  I  do  not  mean 
e  some  of  those  low 
but  clean." 
ptly  and  with  an  una 


Bual  degree  of  warmth :  "  I  wasn't  in  a  lodging-house, 
ma'am,  beggin'  your  pardon — an'  though  it  was  in  a 
cellar  in  Hope  street  I  was.,  there  was  no  dirt  in  it 
to  harm  any  one's  clothes." 

"Oh  I  I  dare  say  not!"  said  Mrs.  Coulter,  with  an 
equivocal  smile ;  "  at  all  events,  go  up  stairs  and  take 
off  your  tilings.  I  suppose  you  have  had  your  break- 
fast." 

Winny  answered  in  the  aflrmative  and  then  slowly 
ascended  the  stairs. 


«  « 


128 


ooN  o'rboan  :  OS. 


CHAPTER  Tin. 

Lbavinq  Winny  to  tbe  assiduous  and  coiiscientioua 
diioharge  of  her  self-imposed  task,  sustained  in  her 
perilous  position  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  her  own 
strong  sensff  of  gratitude,  let  us  penetrate  once  again 
into  the  comfortless  dweUmgs  of  Hope  street.  It 
was  a  small,  dingy  room,  on  the  foarth  story  of  a 
house  which  was  once  a  private  mansion,  the  abode 
of  wealth  and  taste,  but  now  "  fallen  from  its  high 
estate,"  and  sheltering  as  many  families  as  it  con- 
tained rooms— the  spacious  apartments  of  former 
days  having  been  long  since  divided  and  subdivided 
to  suit  the  scanty  means  of  the  present  class  of  oc- 
cupants. The  room  was  scantily  furnished,  having 
but  one  poor,  craBy-looking  bedstead,  covered  over 
with  a  clean,  but  faded  patchwork  quilt,  some  three 
or  four  chairs,  one  of  which  was  fearfully  ricketty, 
and  a  good-si«ed  table  o"  nnpainted  deal.  There 
were  also  a  couple  of  wooden  stools,  or  crickets,  as 
they  are  called  in  the  place,  and  on  one  of  these  sat 
a  yonng  woman,  whose  vacant  look,  ever  and  anon 
raised  towards  the  light  burning  on  the  table,  told  a 
■ad  tale  of  visual  darkness.    She  was  neatly,  though 


w 
n( 
bj 

01 

fr( 

oi 

lk( 

sh 

un 

he 

ye 

oil 

hii 

po 

cbi 

cai 

to 

Bu 

sec 

sat 

ing 

dig 

the 

we 

cio 

cas 

wai 

the 

the 


miORANT  UFS  IN  THB  NBW  WORLD. 


ttf 


IIT. 

IU9  and  couscientious 
islr,  sustained  in  her 
f  God,  and  her  own 
penetrate  once  again 
of  Hope  street.  It 
10  foarth  story  of  a 
1  mansion,  the  abode 
<  fallen  from  its  high 
y  families  as  it  con- 
►artments  of  former 
rided  and  subdivided 
I  present  class  of  oc- 
,ily  furnished,  having 
dstead,  covered  over 
)rk  quilt,  some  three 
as  fearfully  rioketty, 
ainted  deal.  There 
stools,  or  crickets,  as 
1  on  one  of  these  sat 
look,  ever  and  anon 
g  on  the  table,  told  a 
le  was  neatly,  though 


poorly  clad,  and  was  busily  employed  knitting  s 
woollen  stocking,  her  long,  thin  fingerg  plying  the 
needles  with  surprising  agility,  acquired,  doubtless, 
by  long  habit.     She  could  not  be  more  than  twenty- 
one  or  two,  though  the  sombre  melancholy  arising 
from  her  solitary  and  helpless  slate,  cast  a  gloom,  as 
of  many  additional  years,  on  her  otherwise  pretty 
lace.     Near  her  lay  a  young  infant  in  a  cradle,  which 
she  kept  rocking  with  her  foot,  trolling  ever  in  an 
under  tone  a  wild,  mournful  air.     On  the  floor  by 
her  side  sat  a  little  gentle-looking  girl  of  four  or  five 
years  old,  while  a  bold,  strong  boy  some  few  years 
older,  was  whetting  a  piece  of  stick  in  a  corner  be- 
hind the  stove,     At  a  first  glance  one  might  sup- 
pose that  the  young  woman  was  the  mother  of  the 
children,  but  such  was  not  the  case,  for  when  sheoo- 
casionally  suspended  her  ditty  in  order  to  call  them 
to  order,  they  answered  her  by  the  name  of  Peggy. 
But  it  was  not  often  that  she  spoke,  for  her  soul 
seemed  oppressed  by  some  heavy  sorrow,  and  she 
sat,  apparently  wrapped  up  in  her  gloomy  imagin- 
ings, though  there  was  noise  enough  in  the  room  to 
distract  any  mind  less  collected  than  her  own.     At 
the  table,  within  four  or  five  feet  of  where  she  sat, 
were  seated  some  three  or  four  men,  with  a  capa- 
cious black  bottle  before  them,  from  which  they  oc- 
casionally replenished  tlieir  glasses.    As  yet  there 
was  none  of  the  party  actually  intoxicated,  although 
they  were  all  what  is  ealled  "  half-seas  over."    In 
their  dress,  and  they  were  all  dressed  pretty  nearly 


%  t 


180 


cos  o'regan  ;  ob, 


alike,  the  men  were  a  singular  compound  of  tbe  la- 
borer and  the  seaman,  with  a  mixture,  too,  of  the 
peculiar  characteristics  of  each  class  in  their  speech 
and  manners.     More  or  less  prominent  in  each  was 
the  fiank,  good-natured  bearing  of  the  sailor,  with 
much  of  his  swart  and  sun-browned  color.     One  of 
them  was  an  old  acquaintance,  Tom  Derragh,  who, 
with  his  fellow  prisoner,  Barney  Brady— his  host  on 
the  present  occasion— had  got  out  of  jail  some  few 
weeks  before,  their  term  of  imprisonment  being  at 
last  ended.    Their  two  companions  were  'longshore- 
men—or  ship-porters  like  themselves,  men  after  their 
own  hearts,  who  ever  acted  on  the  principle  of  chas- 
ing "  dull  care  away,''  who  made  it  a  rule,  like  tbe 
grasshopper  in  the  fable,  to  sing  and  be  merry  while, 
ihey  might,  leaving  the  morrow  to  shift  for  itself. 
Yet  these  were  men  who  had  from  nature  both 
energy  ivnd  activity  to  carry  out  useful  and  laudable 
purposes — they  were  gifted  with  the  full  measure  of 
personal  strength,  and   had  courage  to  brave  all 
earthly  ills — but,  alas!  they  were  cursed  with  the 
improvident,  careless  spirit^which  has  been  the  ruin 
of  myriads  of  their  race,  numbers  of  whom  might 
have  gained  an  honored  place  in  society,  and  be- 
queath ample  fortunes  to  their  children,  were  it  not 
for  that  fatal  blight.    True  it  is  that,  like  the  vast 
majority  of  their  countrymen,  these  gay,  rollicking 
'longshoremen  were — 

"  More  fit  to  practice  than  oo  plan," 


era 


compound  of  the  !»• 
mixture,  too,  of  the 
class  in  their  speech 
ominent  in  each  was 
y  of  the  sailor,  with 
vned  color.     One  of 
Tom  Derragh,  who, 
J  Brady — his  host  on 
out  of  jail  some  i^^f 
iprisonment  being  at 
ions  were  'longshore- 
lelves,  men  after  their 
the  principle  of  chas- 
de  it  a  rule,  like  the 
~t  and  be  merry  while. 
iw  to  shift  for  itself, 
id  from  nature  both 
t  useful  and  laudable 
,h  the  full  measure  of 
sourage  to  bruve  all 
^rere  cursed  with  the 
lich  has  been  the  ruin 
ibers  of  whom  might 
e  in  society,  and  be- 
children,  were  it  not 
is  that,  like  the  vast 
,  these  gay,  rollickiDg 

I  00  plan," 


EMICRAS'T  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


131 


•Ise  they  would  long  before  have  discovered  that 
they  were  on  the  wrong  track,  and  must  needs  '^  tack 
about"  if  they  would  have  anything  to  support  them 
m  their  declining  years,  or  to  bequenth  to  their 
families  after  them,  for,  unfortunately,  they  were  all 
husbands  and  fathers,  with  the  ex  ieption  of  Tom 
Derragh.  But  left  to  their  own  guidance,  they  fol- 
lowed their  own  natural  and  acqaired  instincts,  and 
followed  them  to  their  ruin,  as  many  have  done 
before,  and,  in  all  probability,  many  will  again. 

They  had  been  talking  in  a  reckless," mocking 
way  of  Brady's  and  Derragh's  recent  imprisonment. 
That  naturally  led  to  Phil  JfcDermot,  who  was 
generally  voted  a  « low  lived  rascal,"  for  the  fact  of 
his  refusing  to  contribute  towards  the  expenses  of 
Peter  Bergen's  funeral  had  been  one  of  the  first  com- 
municated to  Tom  and  Barney  on  their  leaving  the 
jail. 

"  By  japers  !"  cried  Tom  Derragh,  "  it  will  be  ten 
times  as  much  out  of  his  pocket  before  I'm  a  year 
older.  If  it  wasn't  for  him  and  his  dance  Barney 
and  myself  wouldn't  have  got  into  limbo  as  wo  did, 

but  what  would  we  care— no  by ,"  swearing  a 

strange  and  novel  oath  too  fearful  to  be  repeated— 
"  I  wouMn't  care  a  chaw  of  tobacco,  if  the  fellow  was 
what  he  ought  to  be— if  he  had  the  least  mite  of  a 
heart,  the  ungrateful  blubber  !" 

Tiie  sentiment  was  echoed  all  round,  but  the  gen- 
eral  indi,i,Mation  wherewith  McDertnot  was  justly 
regarded  was  unhappily  extended  in  a  measure,  at 


\  % 


132 


co\  o'kf.qax  ;  OR, 


least,  to  P»ul  Bergen,  who  had  forfeited  the  §ym- 
palhy  of  his  former  associates  by  his  recent  adop- 
tion of  sober  habits. 

"  He's  not  the  stuff  after  all,"  said  Barney  Brady, 
draining  his  glass,  an  example  which  the  others  were 
not  slow  to  imitate ;  "  if  he  was,  he  wouldn't  be  led 
by  the  nose  as  he  is.  I  took  him  to  be  a  first  rato 
fellow,  an'  never  expected  to  see  him  said  and  led 
by  his  wife " 

"  I  wish  to  God  there  was  more  than  Paul  Bergen 
said  and  led  by  their  wives— many  a  broken  heart  it 
would  save,  and  many  a  poor  family  that's  in  the 
height  of  misery  might  then  be  happy  and  comfort- 
able !  If  Paul  Bergen  hadn't  left  off  drinkin'  when 
he  did,  he  wouldn't  have  a  wife  now  to  be  advised 
by.  Shame  on  you,  Barney  Brady !  is  it  you  that 
talks  that  way  of  Paul  Bergen,  becase  he  took  him- 
self up  in  time  from  his  evil  ways,  and  took  the 
heavy  warnin'  that  God  gave  him  !  Yourself  made 
a  promise  only  a  week  ago  that  you'd  do  as  ho  did, 
and  shun  liquor  altogether— is  this  the  way  you're 

keepin'  it?" 

It  was  the  blind  girl  who  spoke,  and  her  words, 
•harp  and  bitter  for  her  who  was  naturally  quiet  and 
reserved,  made  a  visible  impression  on  her  rough  but 
kindly  hearers.  None  of  them  spoke  for  a  moment, 
but  sat  looking  on  each  other  in  blank  surprise. 

"  As  for  Tom  Derragh,"  said  Peggy,  and  there  was 
a  slight  tremor  in  her  voice,  "  there's  no  use  talkin' 
to  kim.    I  suppose  we  may  give  him  up  altogether." 


/" 


OH, 

1  forfeited  the  §ym- 
by  his  recent  adop- 

'  said  Barney  Brady, 
hioh  the  others  were 
8,  he  wouldn't  be  led 
him  to  be  a  first-rate 
ee  him  said  and  led 

ire  than  Paul  Bergen 
tany  a  broken  heart  it 

family  that's  in  the 
B  happy  and  comfort- 
left  oflF  drinkin'  when 
"o  now  to  be  advised 
rady !  is  it  you  that 
,  becase  he  took  him- 

waye,  and  took  the 
lim  I  Yourself  made 
,t  you'd  do  as  ho  did, 
»  this  the  way  you're 

poke,  and  her  words, 
7&a  naturally  quiet  and 
Bsion  on  her  rough  but 
1  spoke  for  a  moment, 
in  blank  surprise. 
i  Peggy,  and  there  was 
there's  no  use  talkin' 
ve  him  up  altogether.*' 


IMIORANT  UFK  m  THE  MEW  WORLD.  Igg 

Tomwas  quite  unmanned  by  this  most  unlooked-for 
attack.  Ills  color  came  and  went,  he  pushed  the  glass 
from  before  him,  and  narrowly  escaped  upsetting  the 
late  "  centre  of  all  hearts"-the  black  bottle.  Then 
drawmg  his  chair  hastily  from  the  table,  he  said 
after  some  ineffectual  attempts  to  speak  :  ' 

"  Why,  Peggy  Bawn,  you're  comin'  out  strong, 
mavourneen!_wby  didn't  you  say  all  this  before, 
an  not  be  keeping  it  all  locked  up  in  that  queer  little 
heart  of  yours  ?  Now,  you  know  well  enough  that 
1  m  not  half  so  bad  as  you'd  make  it  appear.  Come 
now,  Peggy,  tell  the  truth  !" 

"  I  know,"  said  Peggy,  after  a  short  pause,  "that 
you're  not  half  so  bad  as  yourself  makes  it  appear- 
but  for  all  that,  you  can't  deny  that  you're  onj 
of  the  foolishest  gomerih  in  this  city.  Ii'  you 
weren't,  it  isn't  sittin'  there  boozin'  and  drinkin' 
you'4  be,  and  you  only  just  gettin'  out  of  a  jail.  If 
you  go  on  a  little  longer  iu  the  way  you're  doin',  I'm 
afeard,  if  God  hasn't  said  it,  you'll  come  to  w'orso 
than  that.  But,  sure,  after  all,  there's  some  of  them 
far  worse  than  you  are,  becase  they  have  others  de- 
pend in'  on  them,  which  you  have  not." 

"  Well,  if  I  haven't  I  ought !"  said  Tom,  with  deep 
feeling,  "  and  it's  your  own  self  knows  that  well,  my 
poor  girl !  But  there's  a  good  time  comin',  Peggy 
dear— it's  never  so  dark,  you  know,  as  when  it's  near 
day." 

"Talk's  cheap,  Tom,"  was  Peggy's  curt  reply,  m 


134 


CON  o'beoan  ;  OR, 


Bhe  resumed  her  knitting  with  increased  aBsidaity  at 
though  to  make  up  for  lost  time. 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  Peggy,"  said  Tom,  now 
thoroughly  sobered,  "  but  to  let  you  see  that  I  can 
act  as  well  as  talk,  I'll  not  taste  another  drop  this 
night.    Will  that  please  you  ?" 

"Oh!  then,  indeed,  it's  not  hard  to  please  Twe," 
said  Peggy,  in  her  quietest  manner.     "  Whatsom- 
ever  pleases  God  is  sure  to  please  me."    This  was 
said  in  a  tone  of  good  reserve,  which  showed  pretty 
clearly  that  Peggy  desired  no  farther  conversation 
at  that  time,  and  her  wish  was  evidently  law  both  to 
Tom  and  Barney.    The  latter  was  Peggy's  brotbtsr- 
in-law,  being  the  husband  of  her  only  sister,  with 
whom  she  had  come  to  America  some  five  or  six  years 
before.     Her  connection  with  Tom,  and  the  power- 
ful influence  which  she  seemed  to  exercise  over  him, 
notwithstanding  her  pitiable  helplessness,  was  a 
mystery  to  most  of  their  acquaintance,  and  many  a 
biting  sarcasm  it  gave  rise  to,  at  Tom's  expense. 
These  unkind  remarks,  however,  were  generally 
made  in  his  absence,  for  there  were  few  of  his  asso- 
ciates, reckless  as  they  were,  who  cared  to  arouse 
his  ire,  and  it  was  fully  understood  by  all  who  knew 
him  intimately,  that  if  he  was  sensitive  on  any  one 
point  it  was  on  Peggy  Daly's  misfortune,  and  bo 
great  was  his  respect  for  her  that  none  might  dare 
to  mention  her  with  levity  in  his  presence.    In  fact, 
Peggy's  virtues  were  such  as  to  command  respect 
from  all  who  knew  her,  and  inasmuch  as  she  had  a 


I 
1 
e 

t 

V 
0 

p 

B( 

y 

DD 

m 

tl 

Be 

ac 

to 
Jfl 

Ai 


icreased  asBidaity  ai 

:gy,"  said  Tom,  now 
;  you  see  that  I  can 
ie  anolber  drop  thia 

hard  to  please  we," 
anner.  "  Whatsom- 
jase  me."  This  was 
vhich  showed  pretty 
farther  conversation 
vidently  law  both  to 
vas  Peggy's  brothfsr- 
ler  only  sister,  with 
some  five  or  six  years 
Com,  and  the  power- 
to  exercise  over  him, 
helplessness,  was  a 
lintance,  and  maiiy  a 
,  at  Tom's  expense, 
ver,  were  generally 
were  few  of  his  asso- 
vho  cared  to  arouse 
ood  by  all  who  knew 
sensitive  on  any  one 
3  misfortune,  and  to 
hat  none  might  dare 
is  presence.  In  fact, 
to  command  respect 
lasmuoh  as  she  had  a 


EMIGRAXT  LIFE  IJC  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


185 


firmer  and  more  vigorous  mind  than  her  sister  Anty 
■o  her  opinion  had  more  weight  with  Barney  than 
that  of  his  wife,  who  was  apt,  at  times,  to  let  her 
temper  get  the  better  of  her  reason. 

When  the  brief  colloquy  between  Tom  and  Peggy 
was  brought  to  a  close,  Barney  cleared  his  throat 
once  or  twice,  and  eaid,  with  a  significant  glance  at 
his  companions  beyond  the  table : 

"Blood  alive,  Peggy,  sure  you  wouldn't  be  so 
hard  on  us  all  out  ?  Now,  you  know  well  enough 
1  didn  fc  taste  a  drop  good  or  bad  since  last  week— 
exceptm'  the  glass  a  day  that  I  left  myself  liberty 
to  take-an'  sure  isn't  it  Ned  and  Jack  here  that 
wanted  to  trate  Tom  and  myself-how  could  either 
of  us  get  over  takin'  a  little  then  ?" 

"A  little!"  repeated  Peggy,  with  scornful  em. 
phasis.  "  If  you  could  any  of  you  stop  with  a  little, 
•orry  Id  be  to  say. one  word  to  you  about  it,  but 
you  know  you  never  stop  at  a  little.  Now  just  let 
me  alone,  all  of  you,  for  it  doesn't  become  a  poor 
dark  crature  like  me  to  be  talkin'  up  this-a-i^ay  to 
men  that  ought  to  know  their  own  affairs  better 
than  me." 

"  There  now,"  said  Tom,  in  an  under  tone,  "  you 
see  there's  no  reasonin'  cases  with  her.  Take  my 
advice  and  let  her  alone." 

"  I  b'lieve  you're  right,"  said  Barney,  in  the  sam« 
tone,  and  he  handed  over  the  bottle  to  Ned  and 
Jack,  making  a  sign  for  them  to  fill  their  glasset. 
As  for  himself  he  followed  Tom's  example,  not- 


188 


CON  o'kkoan  ;  OR, 


withstanding  the  pressing  invitation  of  the  others, 
made  partly  by  signs  and  partly  by  whispers.  See- 
ing ho'Y  mattera  stood,  they  very  soon  took  up 
their  hats  and  went  away,  Ned  telling  Barney  when 
he  accompanied  them  to  the  stair-head,  "  that  'ere 
girl's  a  witch,  take  my  word  for  it." 

"  She  has  bewitched  Tom,  at  any  rate,"  responded 
Jack.  Barney  laughed,  but  said  nothing,  for  his 
wife  just  then  appeared  00  the  landing-place  below, 
and  he  hastily  retreated  into  the  room,  glad  to  get 
quit  of  the  two  before  Anty  got  back.  Little  did 
be  suspect  that  she  bad  been  in  rearoh  of  Andy 
Dwyer,  for  whom  she  knew  he  had  a  high  respect, 
hoping  that  his  presence  would  have  the  effect  of 
"  scattering  the  school,"  as  she  said  to  herself,  "  and 
«  hopeful  school  it  is — my  heavy  curse  on  'the  day 
inlucky  Barney  Brady  got  in  with  such  company  !" 

"  Why,  what's  in  the  wind,  now  ?"  said  Anty, 
throwing  the  door  open,  and  casting  a  hurried 
glance  around,  the  scowl  still  on  her  brow,  but  a 
smile  on  ber  thin  lips ;  "  I  met  two  of  the  black 
sheep  on  the  stairs  abroad — is  the  bottle  empty, 
Barney,  or  what's  come  atwixt  you  ?" 

Rushing  to  the  table  she  seized  the  bottle  and 
held  it  up  between  ber  and  the  light,  but  to  her 
great  surprise  it  was  still  half  full.  Then  she 
turned  and  took  a  leisurely  survey  of  Barney  and 
Tom,  but  neither  of  them  was  "  the  worse  for 
liquor." 

"  Well,  I  deolare,  that's  oarions,"  said  she,  with 


nation  of  the  others, 
by  whispers.  See- 
very  soon  took  up 
telling  Barney  when 
air-head,  "  that  'ere 
■  it." 

iny  rate,"  responded 
aid  nothing,  for  bia 
landing-placo  below, 
e  room,  glad  to  get 
)t  back.  Little  did 
in  tearch  of  Andy 
bad  a  high  respect, 
I  have  the  effect  of 
said  to  herself,  •'  and 
vy  curse  on  'the  day 
ith  such  company !" 
.  now  ?"  said  Anty, 
casting  a  hurried 
on  her  brow,  but  a 
et  two  of  the  black 
a  the  bottle  empty, 
you  ?" 

lized  the  bottle  and 
he  light,  but  to  her 
alf  full.  Then  she 
irvey  of  Barney  and 
iraa  "  the  worse   for 

ioaa,"  laid  she,  with 


BMIfiRAN'T  LIFE  IS  TUB  NK(T  WORM). 


18T 


another  glance  at  the  bottle  j  "  I  think  it's  dramia' 
I  am,  sure  enough." 

Barney  only  laughed,  and  evidently  enjoyed  his 
wife's  amazement,  but  Tom  hastened  to  reply,  and 
said  it  was  all  along  of  Peggy,  "  for  all  she  sits 
there  knittin'  her  atockin'  as  mute  as  a  mouse." 

"  Ha !  ha !"  laughed  Anty,  as  she  proceeded  to 
take  off  her  cloak  and  bonnet,  which  she  hung  on 
ft  pin  behind  the  door,  contiguous  to  an  old  tarpau- 
lin hat  of  Barney's.  "  Ha  I  ha  I  Peggy,  honey,  it's 
yourself  can  do  it  when  you  like.  There's  nothing 
too  hot  or  too  heavy  for  you." 

"Never  mind  them,  Anty,"  said  Peggy,  raising 
her  eyes  in  the  direction  of  her  sister's  voice,  with 
a  smile  of  matchless  humor  playing  around  her  small 
mouth;  "they're  only  making  game  of  you — you 
know  what  a  pair  of  lads  they  are.  Did  you  bring 
me  that  yarn  I  wanted  ?" 

This  was  only  an  excuse  to  hide  the  real  object 
ot  her  sister's  absence,  but  Anty  took  the  hint,  and 
replied  that  Irwin's  store  was  closed,  so  she  didn't 
go  any  farther  as  it  was  gettin'  late. 

"  Anty,"  said  Peggy,  "  I  have  good  news  for  you. 
Tom  Derragh  is  goin'  to  lave  off  drinkin'  and  take 
himself  up,  and  as  for  Barney  here  he's  going  to 
Btiok  to  his  promise  like  a  man." 

Anty  was  by  this  time  in  high  good  humor,  and 
extended  her  hand  to  Tom  with  a  gracious  smile,  B»y< 
Ing,  "  Give  me  your  hand,  Tom ! — there's  hope  for 
jrou  yet.    Stick  to  that  notion,  and  you'll  uoou  dhow 


-—^mgrnpt- 


138 


CON  o'regan  ;  OR, 


them  what  yoa  can  do.  There's  time  enough  yet  tc 
do  well." 

"  I  mean  to  try,  Mrs.  Brady,"  said  Tom,  hia  eyes 
Btill  fixed  on  Peggy's  sightless,  yet  animated  coun- 
tenance, with  a  look  of  oningled  sorrow  and  admira* 
lion,  very  different  from  the  usually  stolid  expres- 
sion of  his  features. 

"  Say  with  God's  help,"  put  in  Peggy,  softly. 

"Where's  the  nse  of  saying  thatf  said  Tom, 
bluntly ;  "  if  I  can  I  will,  that's  all  I" 

Peggy  shook  her  head  and  sighed.  Hardly 
another  word  did  she  speak  during  the  evening, 
except  when  returning  Tom's  good  night.  Even 
then  she  barely  said  what  was  necessary,  nothing 
wore. 

"She  thinks  now  that  I  can't  keep  my  word," 
said  Tom  to  himself,  with  some,  bitterness,  as  be  de- 
scended the  long  dark  staircase,  which  seemed  to 
him  of  interminable  length,  "  but  I'll  let  her  see  I 
can.  And  after  all  she  takes  too  much  on  her — she 
talks  to  me  all  as  one  as  if  I  were  a  child— how  she 
does  catechise  one,  and  pat  words  in  a  fellow's  mouth 
that  he  never  meant  to  say.  She  cau  just  wind  peo- 
ple round  her  finger — it's  well  we're  not  tied  to  her," 
he  added  ;  "and  yet,"  said  a  voice  from  his  inmost 
ber.rt— "it  isn't  my  fault  that  I  am  not— blind  and 
all  as  she  is  now,  there's  nobody  like  Peggy-— poor 
Peggy !"  and  a  heavy  sigh  brarst  from  his  heart  as 
he  stepped  forth  at  last  into  the  cold,  calm  moon- 


OR, 

's  time  enougli  yet  tc 

'  Baid  Tom,  bis  eyes 
,  yet  animated  co'jn- 
I  sorrow  and  sdmira' 
sually  stolid  exprcs- 

n  Peggy,  soflly. 

g  that?"  said  Tom, 

all !" 

nd  sighed.  Hardly 
during  the  evening, 

good  night.     Even 
8  necessary,  nothing 

a't  keep  my  word," 
I.  bitterness,  as  be  de- 
96,  which  seemed  to 
Hit  I'll  let  her  see  I 
>o  much  on  ber — she 
jre  a  child— 'how  she 
Is  in  a  fellow's  mouth 
le  can  just  wind  peo- 
re're  hot  tied  to  her," 
sice  from  his  inmost 
[  am  not — blind  and 
!y  like  Peggy — poor 
Bt  from  his  heart  m 
be  cold,  oalm  moon- 


KMtGRANT  LirE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


18» 


light.  He  looked  up  for  a  moment  at  the  starry 
heavens  and  the  beautiful  queen  of  night 

"  As  she  floated  aboTe, 
In  her  robe  of  light," 

und  be  thought  of  the  days  long,  long  past,  when  he 
was  young,  and  gay,  and  happy,  because  innocent 
and  free  from  the  corrupting  influence  of  bad  com- 
pany. He  heard  again  bis  father's  admonitory 
words  of  wisdom,  his  mother's  sweet  song  as  she 
turned  her  wheel  by  the  wintei's  fire  on  the  well- 
swept  hearth— thence  his  busy  memory  wandered  to 

"  The  cliflT-bound  inch,  the  chapel  in  the  glen, 
Where  oft  with  bare  and  reverent  locks  he  stood 
To  hear  th'  eternal  truths." 

These  old  home  pictures  were  before  him  in  all 
their  beautiful  simplicity,  and  under  the  benign 
spell  of  Peggy's  prudent  counsel,  he  was  softened 
for  the  moment  to  a  sense  of  his  unworthiness,  and 
could  easily  have  been  brought  to  say :  "  Qod  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner !"  but,  alas !  there  was  no 
one  near  to  foster  the  rising  sentiment  into  a  salu- 
tary feeling  of  remorse,  and  the  whole  current  of  his 
thoughts  was  instantly  changed  by  the  voice  of  a  so- 
called  friend,  a  boarder  in  the  same  house,  who  hap- 
pened to  pass  at  the  moment.  Not  sorry  to  get  rid 
of  his  gloomy  cogitations,  Tom  willingly  oonoented 
to  accompany  h'rs  friend  to  a  raffle  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  off  they  went  together,  on  fun,  rather 
thau  charity  intent. 


140 


cc  X  o'regak  ;  or, 


Tom's  good  resolutions  vanishea  liTse  the  morning 
miat  before  the  exciting  influences  surrounding  him 
on  every  side  at  the  raffle.    It  had  been  originally 
got  up  for  the  benefit  of  a  poor  widow  whose  large 
family  were  in  urgent  need  of  some  immediate  as- 
sistance.   Two  of  her  b-ys  had  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  philanthropical  authorities  of  that  most  chari- 
table city,  and  it  cost  the  poor  mother  some  weeks 
of  constant  application  and  assiduous  exertion  before 
they  were  restored  to  her  Popish  arms.    The  Widow 
Mulligan  was  a  hard-working,  industrious  woman, 
ekeing  out  a  subsistence  for  herself  and  her  family 
by  washing  and  charring.     She  was  a  fervent,  con- 
scientious Catholic,  and  would  willingly  see  her 
children  in  their  coffins,  as  she  said  herself  rather 
than  have  them  brought  up  Protestants.    These  sen- 
timents, together  with  her  well-known  honesty  and 
industry,  naturally  excited  a  stioug  sympathy  in  her 
favor,  and  soon  after  her  honorable  victory  over  the 
"  Friends  and  Fathers"  .of  the  city,  a  small  clock  was 
purchased  by  a  few  generous  friends  for  the  pur- 
pose of  having  it  raffled  for  the  benefit  of  Widow 
Mulligan.     Ever  ardent  and  impulsive,  and  warm- 
ly susceptible  of  right  feeling,    the   Irish  seldom 
pause  to  think  of  the  fitness  of  the  course  which 
their  fervid  sympathy  dictates.    There  was  a  large 
number  of  people,  both  male  and  leraale,  at  this 
raffle,  on  the  evening  appointed  for  the  great  event. 
They  assembled  even  before  the  hour  specified,  at  a 
tavern,  not  far  distant  froni  Mrs.  Mulligan's  dwell 


3a  lilce  the  morning 
es  surrounding  him 
had  been  originally 
widow  whose  large 
ome  immediate  as> 
illen  into  the  hands 
of  that  most  ehari- 
nother  some  weeks 
OU8  exertion  before 
arms.    The  Widow 
ndustrious  woman, 
lelf  and  her  family 
was  a  ferrent,  con- 
willingly  see  her 
said  herself  rather 
stants.    These  sen- 
nowu  honesty  and 
ig  sympathy  in  her 
le  victory  over  the 
r,  a  small  clock  was 
ends  for  the  pur- 
benefit  of  Widow 
tulsive,  and  warm- 
the   Irish  seldom 
tiie  coarse  which 
Fhere  was  a  large 
nd  female,  at  thia 
)r  the  great  event, 
lour  specified,  at  a 
Mulligan's  dwell 


EMIORAKT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


141 


ing,  the  landlord  of  said  tavern  having  kindly  offered 
the  use  of  his  largest  room  for  the  occasion.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  the  raffle  put  nearly  as  much 
money  into  his  pocket  as  it  did  into  that  of  Mrs. 
Mulligan,  a  dance  being  got  up,  as  usual,  after  the 
raffle,  and  all  the  world  knows  that  dancing  makes 
people  mighty  thirsty.  A  handsome  sum  was 
realiaed,  it  is  true,  for  the  worthy  widow,  but  many 
a  pocket  was  emptied  in  the  course  of  the  evening, 
or  rather  night,  and  many  a  good  resolution  disap- 
peared — as  in  the  case  of  Tom  Derragh — disap- 
peared, perhaps,  for  ever.  The  charity  that  waa 
done  might  have  been  done  in  another  way,  just  as 
effectual,  without  being  made  the  occasion  of  un- 
necessary expenditure,  and  an  incalculable  amount 
of  sin  and  misery. 

As  for  Tom  Derragh,  when  he  once  got  "  on  the 
spree,"  there  was  no  knowing  where  or  when  his 
"  spree"  was  to  end.  Work  of  any  kind  was  out  of 
the  question,  as  long  as  money  or  credit  lasted,  and 
it  was  only  when  both  were  utterly  exhausted  that 
Tom  brushed  himself  up  and  Trent  in  quest  of  some- 
thing to  do.  During  these  fits  of  dissipation,  Tom 
always  took  good  care  to  keep  as  far  as  possible 
from  Barney  Brady's  dwelling,  although  it  some- 
times happened  that  Barney  himself  was  one  of  his 
companions  in  these  rambles,  or  "roving  commis- 
sions," as  they  facetiously  styled  them.  On  the  pre- 
sent occasion,  however,  Barney  was  not  of  the  par- 
ty and  when  Tom  ventured  to  present  himself  in  the 


148 


co!r  n'KEOAX     or, 


fonrth-Btory  chamber  at  the  farther  end  of  Hope 
street,  a  day  or  two  after  he  had  returned  to  his 
work,  he  found  Barney  listening  attentively  to  a  cer- 
tain account  of  «  Wonderful  Shipwrecks,"  read  by 
no  less  a  person  than  Andy  Dwyer.    Tom  entered 
■with  a  sheepish,  lounging  air,  as  though  conscious  of 
deserving  no  warm  reception,  and  though  Barney 
nodded  with  his  wonted   kindness,   "the  woman- 
kind" (as  Monkbarns  would  say)  hardly  condescend- 
ed to  notice  him.     Anty  bade  him,  indeed,  a  cold 
"good  evening,"  then  went  on  with  her  work  as 
though  he  were  not  in  the  room,  while  Peggy, 
though  she  started  on  hearing  her  sister  saiute  him 
by  name,  spoke  not  a  single  word.     Andy  Dwyer 
raised  his  head  a  moment  from  the  book,  with  a 
formal  "  How  are  you,  Thomas  ?"  for  it  was  one  of 
Andy's  peculiarities  never  to  address  any  one  by  the 
ordinary  abbreviation  of  his  or  her  name,  always 
giving  it  as  his  opinion  that  by  what  name  soever 
they  were  baptized,  by  that  name  they  should  inva- 
riably be  called.    "  If  we  have  a  saint's  name,"  would 
Andy  say,  '<  it's  a  burning  shame  to  disrespect  it  with 
a  nickname."    Many  an  attempt  had  he  made  to  in- 
duce his  acquaintances  to  correct  their  pronunciation 
of  his  own  name,  but  somehow  they  seemed  to  have 
a   perverse  satisfaction  in.  calling  him  Andy,  and, 
after  some  years'  constant  application,  he  had  resign- 
ed  himself  to  his  fate,  and  suffered  the  Apostolic 
name  of  Andrew  to  lie  over,  "  leaving  it  all  to  tbeif 


ther  end  of  Hope 
ad  returned  to  his 
ittentively  to  a  cer- 
pwrecks,''  read  by 
yer.    Tom  entered 
hough  conscious  of 
ad  though  Barney 
ess,   "  the  woman- 
hardly  condescend- 
im,  indeed,  a  cold 
with  her  work  aa 
om,  while  Peggy, 
r  sister  salute  him 
id.     Andy  Dwyer 
the  book,  with  n 
for  it  was  one  of 
•ess  any  one  by  the 
her  name,  always 
what  name  soever 
they  should  inva- 
lint's  name,"  would 
» disrespect  it  with 
lad  he  made  to  in- 
heir  pronunciation 
ey  seemed  to  have 
?  him  Andy,  and, 
ion,  he  had  resign- 
ed the  Apostolic 
vitig  it  all  to  their 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  W  TUB  NKW  WORLD. 


143 


they   knew    any  better    they 


own    itjnoTance — if 

wouldn't  do  it."  , 

Having  timidly  slid  himself  into  a  sea  ,  Tom  be^ 
gan  his  endeavors  to  break  the  ice  wuh  sundry 
"Sticks  of  candy"  wherewith  he  had  prudently  p.o- 
vided  himself.    These,  managed  as  he  well  knew  how 
to  do,  soon  gained  the  unqualified  favor  of  the  two 
children  who  were  quietly  placed  one  on  either  knee^ 
Still  Anty  maintained  her  frownmg  silence,  and 
P  ggy  mi.ht  have  passed   for  a  little  squatmg 
stafue,  wer;  it  not  for  the  unceash.     -ot.on  of  h  r 
fin<.ers  as  she  pursued  her  endless  t    k.    At  length 
Tom,  drawing  his  chair  near  her,  ventured  to  ask^ 
almost  in  a  whisper,  if  she  had  been  well  ever  smc« 
ho   saw  her.     A   flush,  most  probably  of  anger, 
crimsoned  Peirgy's  fair  face,  as  she  replied,  some- 

what  snappishly: 

"This  is  no  time  for  talkin'-don't  you  bear  the 

man  readin'  ?"  „ .     ,  „i. 

Barney  smiled,  and  nodded  at  h.s  friend  as  much 
as  to  say:  "You're  in  for  it  now,  my  lad!  and 
Tom,  disconcerted  and  embarrassed,  was  fain  to 
make  a  show  of  listening  to  Andy,  winhing  him  at 
the  same  time,  in  Jericho,  "  himself  and  h.s  book  of 

Bhipwracks."  .         , 

At  length  Ar^y  dosed  his  book,  observing  that 
it  must  be  getting  near  bed-time,  and  Tom  ^as  r.gU 
Blad  to  effect  his  retreat  at  the  same  time,  notwith. 
Standing  Barney's  question  of  "What's  your  hurry 
manf 


144 


CON  o'krcan  ;  OB, 


"  Oh!  never  mind  him,"  said  Peggy,  speaking  for 
the  first  time  since  her  sharp  rebuke  of  Tom's  ill- 
manners.  "He  has  a  power  of  business  on  hands 
these  times.  You  know  he  has  to  count  his  money 
over  now  an'  then,  an'  look  after  many  a  thing  that 
we  don't  know  of" 

"  That's  the  old  proverb  all  over,  Peggy,"  said 
Tom,  sharply—"  When  a  man's  down,  down  will 
him.     I  didn't  expect  such  jibes  from  yaw." 

"  Do  you  tell  me  so  ?  ah  !  then  why,  if  it's  no  harm 
to  ask  ?" 

"  Good  night  to  you  all!"  said  Tom ;  "  I  see  there's 
no  use  talkin'  to  some  people !"  and  without  wait- 
ing  for  an  answer  he  followed  Dwyer  down  stairs, 
internally  resolving  "  not  to  go  there  again  in  « 
hurry.'* 


WeiUHT  Ur«  IN  THK  NEW  WORLD. 


Ml 


Peggy,  speaking  for 
rebuke  of  Tom's  ill- 
r  bnsiness  on  hands 
to  ooant  his  money 
'  many  a  thing  that 

over,  Peggy,"  said 
down,  down  witl 
from  yoM." 
why,  if  it'g  no  harm 

"om ;  "  I  see  there's 

and  without  wait- 

>wyer  down  stairs, 

1  there  again  in  • 


I 


CHAPTER  IX. 

M.ANwn.LB  Winny  O'Kegan  kept  faithful  watch 
by  the  sick  bed  of  Rachel  Coulter.     After  her  arri- 
val, the  sick-room  was  well  nigh  left  to  herself  and 
her  unconscious  patient,  Mrs.   Coulter  thinking  it 
wholly  unnecessary  for  either  herself  or  Hannah  to 
enter  its  dangerous  precincts.     Pastilles  were  burn- 
ed  in  the  room,  and  aromatic  vinegar  was  sprink.ea 
profusely  in  the   adjoining  passage.     Disinfecting 
fluids  were  placed  at  doors  and  stair  tops,  and  every 
precaution  WM  taken  to  prevent  the  contagion  from 
.  .reading.     And  all  this  time,  that  is  to  say  for  mno 
i.  ng  nights  and  as  many  days,  Winny  remained  m 
c!  nstant  attendance  on  the  sick  girl,  her  meals  being 
left  for  her  outside  the  door  of  the  chamber.    Hu- 
man nature  could  not  have  withstood  such  prolong- 
ed and  incessant  fatigue,  especially  in  the  enfeebled 
Btate  of  Winny'.  health,  but  Mr.  Coulter  came  to 
her  relief,  and  took  her  place  by  Rachels  bed  for 
Bome  hours  every  night,  so  that  she  was  enabled  to 
gel  some  rest  on  a  sofa  in  the  adjoinhig  room.    Mrs. 
Coialter  often  remonstrated  with  her  husband  on  this 
imprudout  exposure  of  himself,  for  which  there  wa. 


CON    o'rEOAN  ;    OB, 

not,  according  to  her.  the  slightest  necessity.  Buc 
she  spoke  to  ears  that  would  not  hear;  for  Mr.  Coul- 
ter  had  no  mind  to  leave  the  whole  risk  and  the 
whole  fat.gue  to  one  poor,  delicate  girl,  herself  only 
recovering  from  a  tedious  illness. 

'■It  was  I  that  asked  her  to  undertake  this  thing," 
-aid  he  "and  I  feel  bound  to  see  that  she  be  not 
overtasked-her  present  strength  is  not  much,  and 
It  would  certamly  kill  her  to  watch  night  and  day  by 
a  bed  of  contagious  disease." 

"Weill  you  are  always  so  soft,  Samuel !-now 
don  t  yo«  suppose  that  this  girl  would  have  taken  the 
nursing  ,n  hands  if  she  didn't  think  she  had  stren<.th 
enough  to  go  through  with  it.  And  then,  I  gu^ess 
you  intend  to  pay  her  well  for  her  trouble,  so  I  really 
think  shem,ght  be  permitted  to  discharge  the  duty 

nI7./?    ;       !'  '"^'^'^-     ^  ^°  ««-  Samuel,  you 
ne  dn  t  look  so  hard  at  me-I  know  these  Irish  very 

thing  if  they  are  only  paid  for  it." 

Mr.  Coulter  only  answered  with  a  look,  and  turn- 
ed away,  saymg  within  himself:  « If  this  be  the  fruit 
of  vital  religion.  I  thank  God  I  have  forsworn  it  long 
ago  Better  a  thousand  times  the  natural  prompt 
ngs  of  man^s  own  heart,  than  the  stern,  cold,  selfish 
teachings  of  what  is  called  religion.     Pclig  ou  in- 

ascended  to  his  daughter's  room.  "A  fig  for  reli- 
gion  say  Il^ne  drop  of  the  milk  of  huLn  k  „d. 
nes,  IS  worth  a  bushel  of  religion  !_give  me,  for  my 


or 
b< 

tl 

li 
r 
f 
s 
1 
f 
s 


OB, 

dtest  necessity.  Bm. 
t  hear;  for  Mr.  Coul- 
I  whole  risk  and  the 
iale  girl,  herself  only 

a. 

ndertake  this  thing," 

see  that  she  be  not 

th  is  not  much,  and 

■tch  night  and  day  by 

soft,  Samuel! — now 
rould  have  taken  the 
ink  she  had  strength 
And  then,  I  guess 
r  trouble,  so  I  really 
'  discharge  the  duty 
io  so,  Samuel,  you 
low  these  Irish  very 
san  bear  almost  any- 

th  a  look,  and  turn- 
"Ifthis  be  the  fruit 
ive  forsworn  it  long 
he  natural  prompt- 
3  stern,  cold,  selfish 
?iop.  Pcligiou  in- 
lated,  as  he  hastily 
»•  "  A  fig  for  reli- 
Ik  of  human  kind. 
!— give  me,  for  my 


EUIGRAST  Ure  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


14t 


creed,  the  golden  rule :  Do  unto  others  as  yon  would 

''strwis  Mr.  Coulter's  characteristic  soliloquy  on 
th!  comparative  merits  of  religion  and  benevo  enc  . 
IleliKion  was,  in  his  mind,  identified  with  the  barren 
Ss  forms,  the  "human  -ventions^'  mcknamed 
religums,  wbi«h  he  saw  around  him.    He  saw  th  n. 
fuS  on- selfishness,  vested  in  hypocrisy  as  'a 
adllored  garment,"  preaching  universal   olerat  on 
but  practising  universal  intolerance  of  tbe  ^^^^^^^ 
':d  most  relentless  kind.    His  heart,  -tu- Hy  -  ™ 
and  susceptible  of  all  kindly  ^-ottons,  mstmcttv    f 
shrank  from  such  a  system  of  hypocrisy,  so  harsh 
od  so  Bballow.     It  never  occurred  to  him  that  cha- 
Hty-frce,  warm,  spontaneous  char.ty-.s  the  mse- 
plble  a  junct  of  true  religion-tbat  "the  one  can- 
Tot  exist  tithout  or  independent  of  the  other,  and 
That  religion,  ««//««^ charity,  would  be  as  fire  wit. 
out  flame.     Such  a    conception  of  religion  would 
have  enlisted  all  his  generous  sympathies,  and  most 
probably  have  made  him  a  sincere  Christian,  but  un- 
happily'- naturally  upright  mind  was  shrouded,  as 
regarded  spiritual  matters,  in  the  gross  darkness 
Xh  then,  as  now.  enveloped  and  overshadowed 
the  great  mass  of  his  countrymen. 

ofentering  the  sick-room.  Mr.  Coulter  was  greet- 
.d  with  a  burst  of  fervent  gratitude  from  W.nny. 
uTlTanks  be  to  God,  sir.  Miss  Rachel  has  got  a  urn 
for  the  better-she  knew  me  a  little  while  ago  whe« 
The  opened  her  eyes  after  that  long  tranoe  she  wa. 


148 


COH   O'REOAN  ;   OB, 


in  ever  since  last  night  when  you  were  here.  But 
Bir  dear!  don't  speak  above  your  breath,  for  she's  in 
a  kind  of  a  doze  now-just  see  how  natural  she 
looks,  an'  how  regular  an'  soft  her  breathin'  is." 

Mr.  Coulter,  stooping  over  the  bed,  had  the  in- 
tense  satisfaction  of  finding  Winny's  statement  quite 
correct.  "Well!"  said  he.  "  Winny,  if  she  get. 
over  ,t,  I  may  thank  you.  Your  care  arfG  attention 
have  done  more  for  her  than  the  two  doctors  could 
have  done." 

"Under  God,  sir,  under  God,"  said  Winny  hasti- 
y,  fearful  of  encouraging,  even  by  a  momentary  si- 
lence,  what  she  deemed  a  criminal  detraction  from 
the  paramount  claims  of  God.  "  It  was  little  I  did 
or  could  do,  if  He  didn't  enable  me.  Blessed  be 
11.8  holy  namiB  I"  and  she  raised  her  humid  eyes  to 
heaven.  "' 

"Well!  well!"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  petulantly, 
have  It  your  own  way,  Winny-still  you  must  al- 
low^at  we  owe  you  some  small  share  of  gratitude." 
Why,  then,  to  be  sure,  sir,  I  did  what  little  I 
could,  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  How  is 
Con,  if  you  please,  sir,  or  do  you  know  did  he  get 
eer  a  letter  from  homeP"  She  had  not  seen  her 
brother  since  she  took  Rachel  in  charge,  though  he 
caed  every  day  at  the  door  to  make  inquiries^ 

Oh  I  he  8  very  well.  Winny."  replied  Mr.  CouL 
ter,  only  very  anxious  on  your  account,  as  I  can 
•ee  oIe«rIy,  although  he  does  not  choose  to  say  m. 


Qe 

ago 
II 

in  Ii 

hca 

Ra< 

1 

the 

last 

his 

she 

tha 

hi^ 

fat 

hei 

hei 

ro( 
uV 

BO 
SCi 

to 
w 

hi 

in 

cY 
nl 
bl 


a  were  here.  But, 
'  breath,  for  she's  in 
•e  how  natural  she 
9r  breathin'  is." 
e  bed,  had  the  in- 
ly's  statement  quite 
V^inny,  if  she  gets 
care  arifl  attention 
two  doctors  could 

said  Winny  hasti- 
)y  a  momentary  si- 
»l  detraction  from 
It  was  little  I  did, 
i  me.  Blessed  be 
tier  humid  eyes  to 

lulter,    petulantly, 
-still  you  must  al- 
lare  of  gratitude." 
did  what  little  I 
r  there.     How  is 
know  did  he  get 
had  not  seen  her 
Jharge,  though  he 
ike  inquiries, 
■eplied  Mr.  Coul- 
iccount,  as  I  oun 
BbooB*  to  aay  la 


■lUOBANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


14t 


Qe  has  had  a  letter  from  his  wife,  a  couple  of  days 
ago,  and  I  believe  his  family  are  all  well." 

"  Thank  God  for  that  same  I"  ejaculated  Winny, 
in  her  soft,  whispering  accents.  "  It's  a  comfort  to 
hear  that,  anyhow.  But,  hush-hush-there's  Miss 
Rachel  stirring.    I  declare  she's  wakin'  up,  sir." 

The  exquisite  joy  of  that  moment  amply  repaid 
the  fond  father  for  the  heart-wearing  anxiety  of  the 
last  few  weeks,  and  as  he  met  the  speaking  eye  of 
his  child  and  clasped  the  little  attenuated  hand  which 
she  held  out  to  him,  he  involuntarily  breathed  his 
thanks  to  God  as  fervently  as  Winny  herself  could 
have  done.     Rachel  was  about  to  speak,  but  her 
father  laid  his  commands  on  her  to  be  silent,  telling 
her  to  be  a  good  girl  and  do  whatever  Winny  told 
her,  and  that  she  would  soon  be  weU  and  "  aiiout 
again."    Rachel  cast  ai  inquiring  glance  around  the 
room,  and  her  face  expressed  disappointment  as  she 
uttered  the  word  "Ma?" 

«  Oh  !  your  ma  is  down  stairs— she'll  be  up  very- 
soon,  I  dare  sayw  III  let  her  know  that  you  wish  to 
see  her.      Good-bye  now,  Rachel,  and  mind  what  I 

told  you." 

The  joyful  news  which  Mr.  Coulter  went  all  the 
•way  to  the  kitchen  to  communicate  was  received  by 
his  wife  with  edifying  composure.  She  was  rejoiced, 
indeed,  as  what  mother  would  not?  at  the  favorabk 
change  which  had  take;,  place  in  her  child,  but  still 
she  shrank  from  the  danger  of  contracting  the  terri- 
blc  malady. 


160 


CON  o'reoam  ;  OR, 


"  You  know,  my  dear,"  said  she  m  her  faintest 
accents,  "  that  I  am  almost  exhausted  after  the  un- 
usually  hard  work  which  I  have  been  obliged  to  do 
du  ing  the  last  couple  of  weeks.  I  would,  therefore, 
be  predisposed  to  catch  the  infection,  and  what 
would  become  of  you  all  if  /  were  laid  up  ?" 

"That  is  very  true.  Prudence,"  said  her  husband, 
Mniling  at  the  marked  emphasis  laid  on  the  pronoun 
I;  "on  the  whole  it  may  be  more  prudent  for  you 
to  keep  away.  Ahem !  Prudence  is,  undoubtedly. 
a  Christian  virtue.  If  Winny  O'Regan  had  been  as 
prudent  as  you  are,  my  good  woman,"  he  muttered, 
as  he  ascended  the  kitchen  stairs,  «  Rachel  might  be 
on  the  other  side  the  great  gulf  by  this  time.  To 
the  mischief  with  such  Christian  virtues  if  they 
harden  a  mother's  heart  and  fiU  it  with  icy  selfish- 
ness  I" 

With  this  burst  of  just  indignation  Mr.  Coulter 
descended  the  steps,  and  was  soon  lost  in  the  busy 
crowd  hurrying  to  and  fro  in  the  street  without. 
He  and  his  partners  were  that  day  to  meet  the 
agents  of  the  various  insurance  companies  for  the 
final  arrangements  of  matters  concerning  the  late 
fire.  The  character  of  the  firm  was  so  well  estab- 
lished that  the  insurance  officers  knew  not  well  how 
to  bring  forward  an  objection  which  must  necessa- 
rily have  involved  a  charge  of  fraud,  and,  moreover, 
their  repeated  investigations  had  elicited  nothing 
that  could  in  the  slightest  degree  justify  such  a 
•harge,  so  that  they  had  no  alternative  but  pay  the 


she  in  her  faintest 
lausted  after  the  un- 

been  obliged  to  do 
I  would,  therefore, 
infection,  and  what 
're  laid  up  ?" 
,"  said  her  husband, 
laid  on  the  pronoun 
)re  prudent  for  you 
nee  is,  undoubtedly, 

Regan  had  been  as 
)man,"  he  muttered, 
S  "  Rachel  might  be 
r  by  this  time.  To 
ian  virtues  if  they 
L  it  with  icy  selfish- 
nation  Mr.  Coulter 
on  lost  in  the  busy 
the  street  without. 
t  d&f  to  meet  the 

companies  for  the 
loncerning  the  late 
was  so  well  estab- 
knew  not  well  how 
hich  must  necessa- 
lud,  and,  moreover, 
id  elicited  nothing 
ree  justify  such  a 
native  but  pay  the 


KWORANT  LIFB  IN  THE  KKW  WORM). 


151 


amount  of  their  various  policies,  which  they  did  wi  h 
no  very  good  grace,  the  sums  be:ng  respectively 
larger  than  it  was  to  their  liki.g  to  advance^ 

This  grand  affair  being  happily  settled,  the  bust- 
ness  of  the  firm  was  speedily  resumed  in  another 
building  in  the  same  street.  At  a  prehminary  meet, 
ing  of  the  partners,  previous  to  the  re-opemng  of 
thfir  warehouse,  the  question  of  "the  hands"  was, 
of  course,  brought  under  discussion. 

"Now  who  are  we  to  keep,  and  who  to  get  nd 
of?'  said  Wood.  "  The  present  is  a  good  opportu- 
^ity  to  make  any  changes  to  that  effect  which  we 
may  think  necessary  or  advantageous. 

.<  If  my  advice  were  taken,"  said  Pims,  with  a 
Bidelong  glance  at  his  senior,  "  there  should  be  none 
of  these  confounded  Irishmen  about  the  premises^ 
I  guess  we  shall  bring  a  storm  about  our  h.ads 
some  of  these  days  by  retaining  so  many  of  them 
in  our  empi'^vment.    We  shall  not  be  allowed  to 
eo  on  much  longer  in  defiance  of  P"^  .°/l^'7"' 
tak«  my  word  for  it.    But  I  suppose,"  ho  added, 
ntill  more  pointedly,  "there  would  bo  no  use  m 
tanking  of  sending  that  O'Regan   adnft-ho  has 
laid  us  under  such  p-esshig  obligations. 

Wood  evidently  enjoyed  this  homethrust  at  Coul- 

ter  but  the  hUer  replied  very  coolly  in  his  blunt 

'y    .'Never  inind  ORegan;    I  don't  mtend   to 

employ  h-un  any  more  in  the  concern.     So  leave  htm 

out  of  your  calculations." 

Never  was  afltonishment  more  plainly  depicted 


m 


0<»»  o'rkoan  ;  OR, 


Tent  on  h?  '^°^'^'^"'«"  *«>«"  't  was  at  that  mo. 
ne^s     W  th  I'TT'^Sen  of  the  junior  part. 

mixture  of  H  '  i"'''  *'^''""  ^"«  •">  unmistakeable 
mixture  of  hope-hope  that  "  the  favorite  '•  as  thev 
usually  styled  Con.  had  disobliged  Mr.  Conl  er  « 
jome  way  that  had  turned  his  hlest  heart  Igl^ 

"Why,ho«r  is  that?"  said   Wood;   "have  v>„ 
then,  been  deceived  in  him  P"  ^     ' 

non-such  of  porters '" 

matters  of  greater  importance  1"  ""toother 

Con's  countenance  fell.    He  ^as  evidently  taken 
thrioe,  he  go.   courage  to  say  in  »  careless  way : 


;  on, 

ban  it  was  at  that  mo- 
38  of  the  junior  part- 
ivas  an  unmistakeable 
the  favorite,"  as  they 
Jliged  Mr.  Coulter  in 
I  honest  heart  against 

Wood;    "have  yon, 

Pirns,  wholly  nnable 
■  thonght  he  was  the 

8  triumph  which  his 
ook  a  laudable  plea- 
iter-hooks  where  he 

s  done,"  he  replied, 
m.  As  an  Irishman 
I  will  take  upon  me 
efficacious  manner, 
aad  go  on  to  other 

>n,  which  happened 

>ruptly  saluted  him 

r,   O'liegan— your 

in  our  establish- 

18  evidently  taken 

•8  throat  twice  or 

a  careless  way  : 


EMIGRANT  LIFK  IH  TH«  NEW  WORLD. 


158 


■  Well,  sir,  I'm  sorry  to  hear  it,  but  I  suppose  it 
ean't  be  helped.  I  was  tbinkin'  you'd  be  for  keepin' 
mo  on,  but  as  you're  not,  why  I  must  only  try  if 
I  can  find  another  situation." 

"And  that  will  be  no  easy  matter,  I  can  tell 
you,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  gravely.  "  In  the  present 
state  of  public  feeling,  the  best  recommendation  I 
could  give  you  would  hardly  procure  you  employ- 
ment amongst  the  merchants  of  this  city.  You 
see  yourself  how  excited  the  populace  are  against 
you  Irish,  and  employers  are  more  or  less  exposed 
to  public  censure  by  having  anything  to  do  with 
you.' 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Oon,  with  a  sigh,  "  that  same  is 
hard  enough,  for  Pm  sure  they'll  never  find  any  one 
to  serve  them  more  faithfully  than  most  of  us  do. 
Still,  as  I  said,  it  can't  be  helped.  If  all  goes  to  all, 
sir,  why  we  must  only  go  to  some  other  city  in 
search  of  employment." 

"Even  that  would  not  better  your  condition,' 
said  Mr.  Coulter.    "All  our  principal  cities  in  these 
Eastern  States  are,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  equally  into- 
lerant at  the  present  time  as  regards  you.     But, 
cheer  up !  Con— things  are  not  quite  so  bad  as  you 
seem  to  think.    I  told  you  on  the  night  of  the  fire 
that  Sam  Coulter  was  not  ungrateful,  but  I  have  as 
yet  given  you  no  proof  that  what  I  said  was  true. 
How  would  you  like  to  go  out  West  and  settle  on 
a  farm— a  farm  of  your  own,  Con,  mind  that?" 
Con's  eyes  sparkled  and  his  cheeks  glowed.    He 


"^  ,« 


154 


CON  o'reoan  ;  OR, 


Beemed  half  afraid  to  admit  the  possibility  of  snch  a 
thing.  "  la  it  how  would  I  like  it,  Mr.  Coulter  P — 
oil,  then,  indeed,  sir,  it's  the  very  thing  I  would  like, 
if— if — it  could  ever  come  to  pass.  But  sure  it  can't 
— there's  no  such  good  luck  in  store  for  me." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Coulter, 
sharply. 

"  Why,  sir,  I'm  told  it  takes  a  power  of  money  to 
get  settled  on  a  farm.  Isn't  that  place  you  speak  of 
very  far  away,  sir  ?" 

"  I  spoke  of  no  particular  place,"  said  Mr.  Coulter, 
smiling.  "  I  said  the  West  in  general.  There  are 
three  Slates  to  which  the  rush  of  settlers  is  now 
tending — these  are:  Illinois,  Wiscons'n,  and  Iowa, 
all  of  which  bid  fair  to  be  great  and  flourishing 
States.  Many  of  your  countrymen  are  to  bo  found 
in  each  of  them  already,  I  understand,  so  that  you 
will  find  yourself  quite  at  home  in  any  of  them." 

Con  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  To  be  sure  I 
•will,  sir — when  I  get  there.  But  where  is  the  money 
to  oome  from  ?" 

"That's  the  secret,"  said  Mr.  Coulter;  "but  as 
you  must  know  it  sooner  or  later,  I  believe  I  may 
fis  well  tell  you  now.  I  promised  my  two  partners 
this  day  that  I  would  dispose  of  a  troublesome  fel- 
low of  your  name,  so  as  to  clear  him  off  the  premises. 
Well !  I  happen  to  have  a  brace  of  old  maiden  sis- 
ters, who  have  little  to  do  with  Ihei  money  besides 
carrying  out  their  odd  notions.  Now  they  both 
happen  to  have  conceived  an  interest  in  your  wel 


i 


possibility  of  snch  a 
;e  it,  Mr.  Coulter  ?— 
"y  thing  I  would  like, 
38.  But  sure  it  can't 
store  for  me." 
Dquired  Mr.  Coulter, 

a  power  of  money  to 
it  place  you  speak  of 

se,"  said  Mr.  Coulter, 
general.  There  are 
\\  of  settlers  is  now 
riscons'n,  and  Iowa, 
reat  and  flourinhing 
men  are  to  bo  found 
erstand,  so  that  you 
in  any  of  them." 
ead.  "  To  be  sure  I 
t  where  is  the  money 

r.  Coulter;  "but  as 
ter,  I  believe  I  may 
led  my  two  partners 
)f  a  troublesome  fel- 
him  off  the  premises. 
!e  of  old  maiden  sis- 
thei  money  besides 
8.  Now  they  both 
iterest  in  your  wel 


a 


IMIQRANT  MFE  IX  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


155 


fare  from  certain  representations  made  to  them  at 
limes  regarding  you  and  Winny-not  that  they  have 
ever  seen  much  of  her,  poor  girl!  for  they  and  my 
wife  are  not  on  the  best  of  terms,  and  so  they  only 
cross  my  threshold  once  a  year,  when  they  make 
their  New  Year's  visit.     But  I  see  them  myself  from 
time  to  time  as  opportunity  oflfers,  and,  as  I  told 
you-at  least  I  think  I  did-they  are  willing  to  lend 
>ou  some  three  or  four  hundred  dollars  for  the  pur- 
;,  .se  of  settlinp  .  a  a  farm  out  West,  until  such  timen 
as  you  can  pay  it  back,  which  I  know  will  not  be 
long.    Do  you  understand?"    He  saw  that   Con 
looked  embarrasEjd  as  well  as  surprised.  ^ 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  I  understand— well  enough— but 
then  it  would  never  do  for  a  poor  man  like  me  to  go 
under  such  a  load  of  debt.  I'd  never  be  able  to  pay 
it,  sir.    Not  but  what  I'm  entirely  obliged  to  the 

old  ladies " 

Mr,  Coulter  laughed.  «'  It's  well  for  you,  said  he, 
"that  you're  not  within  their  hearing  when  you 
speak  of  them  as  old  ladies,  else  I  fear  your  chance 
would  be  forfeited.  Ladies  are  never  old,  Con  1  aBd 
especially  unmarried  ladies— remember  that !" 

«'D'ye  tell  me  so,  sir?"  said  Con,  in  surprise. 
«'  Well !  that's  something  I  never  knew  before— I 
thought  the  quality  grew  old  just  like  other  people, 
an'  I  wouldn't  have  called  your  sisters  old,  only 
yourself  said  it  the  first.  I  ask  your  pardon,  Mr 
Coulter,  if  I  made  too  free." 
•  •'Tut,  man,  there  is  no  need  of  any  apology;  I 


<18« 


CON    o'kEOAN  ;    OR, 


merely  meant  to  put  yon  on  your  guard— you  Be« 
the  truth  is  not  always  to  be  told.  But,  come! 
what  shall  I  say  to  my  sisters  ?" 

"  Well,  sir!  if  you'll  just  be  good  enough  to  tel- 
the  young  ladies,"  with  a  sly  emphasis  on  the  adjec- 
tive, which  made  Mr.  Coulter  smile,  "that  I'm  for 
ever  obliged  to  them,  and  that  if  there's  any  reason- 
able prospect  of  my  bein'  able  to  pay  back  their 
money,  I'll  take  the  loan  of  it  with  all  the  veins  of 
my  heart.  But  you  know,  sir,  and  you'll  please  to 
Bay  so,  that  I  have  to  consult  with  Winny,  and 
another  thing  I'd  like  to  try  an'  find  out  whether 
there's  any  priests  or  chapels  in  them  parts.  I'll 
ask  Father  Timlin,  sir,  this  very  day." 

"  Very  well,  Con,  that  is  all  fair  enough,  but  I 
Jiope  you  will  make  up  your  mind  to  embrace  this 
golden  opportunity,  let  the  priests  or  the  churches 
be  as  they  may.  If  you  mm  this  chance  yon  may 
never  have  such  another !" 

"  It  won't  be  my  fault,  Mr.  Coulter,  if  I  do  miss 
it,  for  it's  what  even  Biddy— that's  my  wife,  sir  !— 
tells  me  in  her  letter  that  if  I  could  get  a  spot  of 
land  of  my  own,  if  it  was  only  six  or  eight  acres, 
where  we  wouldn't  have  any  rent  to  pay,  she'd  be 
the  proudest  woman  of  her  name." 

"Six  or  eight  acres!"  repeated  Mr.  Coulter; 
"and  would  you  call  that  a  farm  in  Ireland  ?" 

"  Why,  then,  to  be  sure  we  would,  sir,  an'  if  a 
body  had  that  same  at  any  kind  of  an  easy  rent,  he 
might  live  happy  and  comfortable  on  it—but  it's 


OR. 


lUIGRAKT  l.irK  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


161 


your  guard—you  sea 
)e  told.  But,  come! 
?" 

<e  good  enough  to  tel- 
imphasis  on  the  adjeo- 
r  smile,  "  that  I'm  for 
;  if  there's  any  reason- 
)Ie  to  pay  back  their 
i  with  all  the  veins  of 
',  and  you'll  please  to 
lit  with  Winny,  and 
an'  find  out  whether 
in  them  parts.  I'll 
ry  day." 

II  fair  enough,  but  I 
oind  to  embrace  this 
iests  or  the  churches 
this  chance  yon  may 

Ooulter,  if  I  do  mias 
hat's  ray  wife,  sir ! — 

could  get  a  spot  of 
'  six  or  eight  acres, 
ent  to  pay,  she'd  be 
le." 

sated  Mr.  Coulter ; 
n  in  Ireland  ?" 

would,  sir,  an'  if  a 
I  of  an  easy  rent,  he 
able  on  it — but  it's 


the  rents,  sir,  that  keep  down  the  poor  farmers  in 
Ireland,  and  drives  them  away  out  of  the  country 
altogether," 

"Poor  people!"  said  Mr.  Coulter  to  himself; 
"  poor  people !  what  a  melancholy  story  is  theirs, 
and  yet  how  little  sympathy  do  they  meet  from 
those  who  have  all  the  benefit  of  their  expatriation  I 
— ^tlieir  great  and  numerous  virtues  pass  unheeded, 
and  only  their  faults  are  noted  to  be  magnified  into 
heinous  crimes !— well,  Con!"  he  said  aloud,  "you 
will  think  of  what  I  proposed  to  you— talk  it  over 
with  your  friends,  at  your  leisure,  and  let  me  know 
the  result!" 

"  I  will,  sir,  and  may  the  Lord  bless  yon— but  Mr. 
Coulter,"  going  a  step  after  him,  "  I  forgot  to  ask 
about  Miss  Rachel— how  is  she  the  day,  sir  ?" 

«'  Much  better.  Con,  I  thank  you — so  much  better, 
indeed,  that  Winny  will  soon  be  at  liberty  again — 
that  is" — he  was  going  to  add,  "  provided  she  do  not 
catch  the  infection,"  but  glancing  at  Con's  eager, 
anxious  face,  he  suddenly  stopped,  and  muttering 
something  about  having  deVayed  too  long,  he  hastily 
turned  away,  while  Con  stood  looking  after  him  in 
amazement  till  he  disappeared  round  a  corner. 

The  clock  in  Mr.  Coulter's  hall  had  just  struck 
seven  that  same  evening  when  Con  O'Regan  rang 
the  bell  and  told  Hannah  who  opened  the  door  that 
ho  wished  to  speak  with  Wiilny.  The  young  lady 
civilly  invited  him  to  walk  in  end  sit  down,  and 
away  she  ctripped  to  inform  Winny^  taking  care^ 


15« 


COM  o'keoan  ;  OR, 


T 


however,  to  keep  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  door  of 
the  prohibited  chamber.  Telling  her  young  patient 
that  she  would  be  back  in  a  very  few  minutes,  Winny 
descended  the  stairs  with  a  light  and  rapid  step, 
thinking  only  of  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  brother, 
and  hearing  from  his  wife  and  children,  forgetting 
for  the  moment  the  danger  of  conveying  the  infec- 
tian  to  Con,  when  just  at  the  head  of  the  first  stair- 
case, she  came  full  against  Mrs.  Coulter,  who  was 
leisurely  proceeding  to  her  own  chamber.  Mrs. 
Coulter  drew  back  in  great  trepidation,  at  the  sume 
time  admonishing  Winny  to  keep  off. 

"  Dear  me  I  Winny,"  she  exclaimed,  in  tremulous 
accents, "  how  very  thoughtless  it  was  of  you  to  come 
Bo  near  me  when  you  saw  that  I  didn't  observe 
your  approach ! — now,  if  I  should  happen  to  take 
that  dreadful  fever,  I  shall  have  only  you  to  blame  ! 
— what  on  earth  are  you  doing  here?"  and  she  kept 
moving  away  from  Winny,  holding  a  vinaigrette  con- 
taining aromatic  vinegar  to  her  nose. 

"I'm  going  down  to  see  my  brother,  ma'am,"  was 
Winny's  quiet  answer,  "  though  maybe  it's  what  I 
shouldn't  do  when  there's  snch  danger  of  infection. 
Still  I'll  go  in  God's  name,  for  I  know  Con  won't 
fear  to  have  me  near  him  if  there  was  a  plague  on 
me,  let  alone  a  fever.  Will  you  please  to  pass  on, 
ma'am,  till  I  get  going  down  stairs?" 

The  passage  was  quickly  cleared,  and  Winny  could 
not  help  laughing  as  she  made  her  vay  to  where  Con 
sat.    The  fraternal  salutation  was  even  M%rmer  than 


T 


ce  from  the  door  of 
;  her  young  patient 
lew  minutes,  Winny 
;ht  and  rapid  step, 
seeing  her  brother, 
children,  forgettinj^ 
onveying  the  infec- 
ad  of  the  first  stair- 
.  Coulter,  who  was 
wn  chamber.  Mrs. 
idation,  at  the  same 
poff. 

limed,  in  tremulous 
i  was  of  you  to  come 
it  I  didn't  observe 
lid  happen  to  take 
only  you  to  blame  ! 
lere?"  and  she  kept 
ig  a  vinaigrette  con- 
lose. 

rother,  ma'am,"  was 
1  maybe  it's  what  I 
langer  of  infection. 
I  know  Con  won't 
e  was  a  plague  on 
1  please  to  pass  on, 
irs  ?" 

id,  and  Winny  could 
r  way  to  where  Con 
8  evea  warmer  than 


IMIORANT  LIFK  IN  THB  NEW  WORLD. 


m 


mntA,  M  the  brother  and  sister  clasped  each  otber'« 
hand,  and  exchanged  scrutinizing  glances.  Con's 
eyes  filled  with  tears  as  ho  hastily  took  in  the  in- 
creased emaciation  of  his  sister's  face  and  form,  but 
Wiuny,  reading  his  thoughts,  did  not  choose  to  en- 
courage them. 

"  So  you've  got  a  letter  from  Biddy,  I  hear !— how 
are  they  all  at  home  ?" 

"  All  well,  Winny,  thanks  be  to  God,  and  Biddy 
sends  her  love  and  best  respects  to  you.  But  j.\\ 
give  you  the  letter  to  read."  And  he  put  his  hand 
in  his  pocket  in  search  of  the  precious  missive. 

"No,  r.o,  Con!  not  now!"  said  Winny,  hastily, 
"  when  I  go  out  from  here— if  I'm  living  and  well,  I 
can  read  it  then,  but  there's  no  use  takin'  it  up  into 
the  sick-room.     An'  what  news  have  you.  Con  ?" 

"  The  best  of  news,  Winny  ! — the  best  of  news  I 
—an'  you'll  say  when  you  hear  it  that  I'm  one  of 
the  luckiest  men  livin'." 

«'  Why,  what  in  the  world  is  it,  Con?"  cried  Winny, 
involuntarily  catching  a  portion  of  her  brother's  ani- 
mation. 

Con  proceeded  to  relate  his  conversation  of  the 
morning  with  Mr.  Coulter,  Winny  listening  with  a 
kindling  eye  and  a  glowing  cheek.  She  had  hardly 
patience  to  hear  him  out. 

"  Well !  and  did  you  go  to  Father  Timlin,  Con  ?— 
and  what  did  he  say  ?" 

«'  Oh !  he  said  I  might  make  myself  quite  easy  with 
regard  to  the  clergy  and  the  ohurehes,  for  that  if 


160 


CON    0'REOA>f  ;    OH, 


T 


there's  not  a  priest  or  a  oburoh  in  every  settlement, 
there  soon  would,  he  was  sure.  He  said  he'd  wish 
me  to  go  to  the  State  of  Iowa,  for  that  there's  a  great 
number  of  Irish  people — good  Catholioa — scattered 
all  over  it,  and  that  there  will  bo  more  and  more 
goin'  every  day.  Now,  Winny,  isn't  that  a  good 
chance  that  the  Lord  has  given  us?" 

"  It  is  indeed.  Con,  blessed  be  His  name !"  She 
was  about  to  say  something  else  when  the  door  bell 
rang,  and  whispering  to  her  brother  to  come  soon 
again  till  they  would  talk  the  matter  over,  Winny 
opened  the  door  and  admitted  the  doctor,  who  was 
come  to  pay  his  evening  visit.  Dr.  Richards  was 
not  an  old  man,  but  neither  was  he  what  might  bo 
called  young,  so  that  he  came  under  the  category 
of  "middle-aged  gentlemen,"  although  there  was 
that  in  the  flashing  glance  of  his  eye  when  he  chose 
to  turn  it  full  on  any  oue,  which  told  of  passions 
naturally  strong  and  never  subjected  to  restraint. 
Still  his  demeanor  was  staid  and  rather  dignified, 
and  as  he  stood  at  the  very  head  of  his  profession, 
lie  was  favored  with  an  extensive  and  lucrative 
practice,  chiefly  among  the  higher  classes,  and  hia 
little  backslidings,  if  perchance  he  had  them,  were 
politely  permitted  by  his  patrons  and  patronesses 
of  the  conventicle  to  "  rest  in  the  shade,"  as  trifles 
unworthy  of  notice.  On  the  present  occasion  the 
doctor  seemed  a  little  surprised  when  the  door  was 
opened  by  Winny,  whom  he  had  not  seen  for 
weeks  long  out  of  the  sick-room,  and  his  surpriM 


OR, 

in  every  settlement, 
He  said  he'd  wish 
ir  that  there's  a  great 
Catholios — scattered 
1  bo  more  and  more 
y,  isn't  that  a  good 
I  us  ?" 

be  His  name !"  She 
le  when  the  door  bell 
rother  to  come  soon 
matter  over,  Winny 
the  doctor,  who  was 
:.  Dr.  Richards  was 
as  he  what  might  be 
I  under  the  category 
although  there  was 
is  eye  when  he  chose 
lich  told  of  passions 
ibjected  to  restraint, 
ftnd  rather  dignified, 
tad  of  bis  profession, 
ensive  and  lucrative 
^her  classes,  and  bis 
I  he  had  them,  were 
ens  and  patronesses 
the  shade,"  as  trifles 
present  occasion  the 
}  when  the  door  was 
a  had  not  seen  for 
om,  and  bis  snrpriee 


IMIORAKT  UFK  IN  TIIK  NEW  WORLD. 


161 


was  nowise  lessened  by  the  sight  of  our  friend  Con, 
who  stood  with  his  hat  in  his  hand  almost  behind 
the  door.  The  doctor's  quick  eye  glanced  from 
the  handsome  young  Irishman  to  the  now  blushing 
face  of  Winny,  who  felt  a  little  embarrassed  by  the 
rencontre,  suspecting  in  a  moment  the  wrong  con- 
struction which  might  be  put  on  the  affair. 

"  So,  Winny,"  said  the  doctor,  "  your  patient  must 
bo  going  on  well  this  evening  when  you  can  come 
down  to  receive  visitors." 

"  Yes,  air,  I  think  Miss  Rachel's  a  great  deal  bet- 
ter, and  I  just  came  down  to  speak  a  few  words  to 
my  brother  here.     I'm  goin'  up  now." 

"Your  brother,  eh  ? — oh !  I  beg  pardon,  I  thought 
it  had  been  somebody  else."  And  the  doctor  chuckled 
in  a  singular  way  as  he  mounted  the  stairs.  Winny 
only  waited  to  let  Con  out  and  then  hastened  back 
to  her  post.  She  found  the  physician  in  the  act  of 
feeling  Rachel's  pulse. 

"  Our  patient  is  decidedly  better,"  he  said. — "  very 
much  better,  indeed.  You  have  cheated  death  for 
lliistime,  Rachel.     Good  news  that  for  pa, — a'nt  it  ?" 

He  then  asked  Winny  a  few  questions  relative  to 
the  patient,  and  having  obtained  satisfactory  an- 
swers, he  said  with  a  peculiar  smile :  "  You  are 
a  clever  girl,  Winny, — a  most  excellent  nurse,  and 
as  such  T  can  safely  recommend  yon,  should  you 
think  of  continuing  at  the  business." 

"  I  thank  you  kindly,  sir,"  ssud  Winny,  "  bat  I 
have  no  thonghts  of  that — it  was  only  to  oblige  Mr. 


162 


CON  o'regak  ;  OB, 


-^^mmmr- 


Coulter  that  I  came  to  mind  Miss  Rachel,  an'  I  know 
I'm  no  great  hand  at  the  business.  But  sure  I  done 
all  I  could." 

"  You  did  very  well,  indeed,  Winny,  better,  in 
fact,  than  many  a  professional  nurse  would  have 
done."  He  had  now  reached  the  passage,  when  he 
suddenly  remembered  that  he  had  given  Winny  no 
directions  as  to  the  patient's  diet,  and  called  her  for 
that  purpose.  Having  given  her  the  necessary 
orders,  he  seized  her  hand  and  drew  her  farther 
down  the  narrow  hall,  Winny  trying  in  vain  to  ex- 
tricate her  fingers. 

"  Winny,"  said  he,  in  a  low  whisper,  almost  close 
to  her  ear,  "  I  know  exactly  how  you  stand  here — 
I  a'm  well  aware  of  Mrs.  Coulter's  base  ingratitude 
— don't  engage  witli  her  again  on  any  account. 
Mrs.  Richards  wants  a  chambermaid  just  now,  and 
I  will  see  that  yon  get  better  wages  than  any  one 
else.  Won't  you  go  at  once  and  engage  with  her?" 
The  doctor's  whole  manner  was  bo  strangely  fami- 
liar, his  looks  so  excited,  and  hin  tone  so  impassioned, 
that  Winny  trembled  all  over  and  renewed  her 
efforts  to  get  away,  not  deigning  a  word  of  reply. 
But  when  he  went  still  farther,  approaching  his  face 
quite  close  to  hers,  with  an  unmistakeable  inten- 
tion, Winny,  as  if  suddenly  endowed  with  twofold 
strength,  snatched  her  hand  from  tire  grasp  of  the 
tibertinc,  and  with  that  same  hand  gave  him  such  a 
blow  on  the  face  that  he  staggered  back  against  the 
wall. 


P 
a 

c 

a 

C 

a 

r 

t 

t 
ii 
C 
t' 

s 

0 
V 
f! 
P 

n 
f 

<1 
I 

(( 

c 
1 

B 
C 
ll 


■iTrtiiB\i*Milliii<»j"#Wirf>i"-    ■ 


OR, 

iss  Rachel,  an'  I  know 
ess.    But  sure  I  done 

ed,  Winny,  better,  in 
il  nurse  would  have 
the  passage,  when  he 
had  given  Winny  no 
liet,  and  called  her  for 
1  her  the  necessary 
nd  drew  her  farther 
•  trying  in  vain  to  ex- 
whisper,  almost  close 
ow  you  stand  here — 
ter's  base  ingratitude 
ain  on  any  account, 
lermaid  just  now,  and 
r  wages  than  any  one 
ind  engage  with  her?" 
r&s  so  strangely  fami- 
R  tone  BO  impassioned, 
er  and  renewed  he? 
ning  a  word  of  reply. 
",  approaching  his  face 
unmistakeable  inten- 
ndowod  with  twofold 
Tom  thtJ  grasp  of  the 
hand  gave  him  such  a 
rered  back  against  the 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WOni.D. 


16S 


"  Take  that  now,"  said  the  angry  girl,  as  she 
passed  him  at  full  speed  ;  "  that'll  teach  you  to  keep 
a  civil  distance  from  the  like  of  me  for  the  time  to 
come.  If  ever  you  dare  say  a  word  of  the  kind  to  ine 
again  or  take  any  liberty  whatsomever,  I'll  tell  Mr. 
Coulter  so  sura  as  my  name  is  Winny  O'Regan!" — 
and  shaking  her  fist  at  him,  sie  entered  Ilachel's 
room  and  closed  the  door  after  her,  leaving  the  doc- 
tor to  find  his  way  down  stairs  as  best  he  might. 

Winny  was  well  pleased  to  find  that  Rachel  bad 
turned  to  the  wall  and  was  already  half  asleep.  Fall- 
ins  on  her  knees  she  once  more  offered  herself  to 
God  and  solemnly  placed  hersci.  under  the  protec- 
tion of  the  ever-blessed  Virgin,  which  was  her  con- 
stant practice,  th'en  she  arose,  strong  in  the  might 
of  faith,  and  said  to  herself:  "The  smooth-faced 
vagiibond' — isn't  he  a  nice  lad  to  have  attendin'  a 
family  ? — but  sure  ho  thought  /  was  only  a  poor  sim- 
ple Irish  girl  and  that  he  could  do  as  he  liked  with 
me.  I'll  go  bail,  though,  that  he'll  keep  clear  of  me 
from  this  out!" 

As  for  the  doctor,  he  made  his  way  down  stairs  aa 
quietly  as  possible,  holding  his  handkerchief  to  his 
bleeding  nose,  alternately  vowing  vengeance  against 
"  that  uncultivated  Irish  virago"  and  framing  ex- 
cuses for  his  accident  in  case  he  met  Mrs.  Coulter. 
Fortunately,  that  lady  w.is  in  the  kitchen  preparing 
supper,  80  that  the  worthy  physician,  finding  tha 
coast  clear,  stepped  noiselessly  to  the  door  and  let 
bimself  oat.-/F 


164 


roH  o'bman 


T 


CHAPTER  X. 

FoK  a  few  days  after  the  incident  recorded  at  tha 
end  of  our  last  chapter,  Dr.  Richards  continued  hia 
daily  visits,  and  Winny  was  no  little  surprised  to  see 
that  his  manner  towards  herself  was  just  the  same 
as  before.     Not  the  smallest  degree  of  embarrass- 
ment did  he  macifest  even  on  the  following  day ; 
neither  was  there  any  appearance  of  resentment. 
He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  about  the  affair  of 
the  previous  day,  and  gave  the  necessary  directions 
in  a  tone  of  the  coolest  indifference,  just  as  though 
nothing  unusual  Lad  happened.    But  it  was  not  so 
with  Winny,  who  could  not  so  easily  forget  the 
shameful  insult  that  had  been  so  lately  offered  her 
by  the  man  before  her.    The  fresh,  unsullied  purity 
of  her  heart  made  her  shrink  with  disgust  from  him 
who  had  dared  to  take  such  a  liberty,  and  do  as 
Rhe  would,  she  could  not  look  him  in  the  face,  but 
received  her  orders  in  profound  silence  with  only  a 
Dod  of  assent. 

"  Do  you  hear  what  I  say,  my  good  girl  ?''  said 
llie  doctor  in  a  raised  voice,  apparently  determined 
to  make  her  speak.    But  Winny,  on  her  side,  wai 


IB. 


EM'JRANT  MFE  IM  THE  NEW  \VORI,D. 


165 


5. 

lent  recorded  at  thu 
ihards  oontinacd  his 
ttle  surprised  to  see 
f  was  just  the  same 
egree  of  embarrass- 
the  following  day ; 
moo  of  resentment. 
1  about  the  affair  of 
necessary  directions 
CDce,  just  as  though 
,     But  it  was  not  so 
80  easily  forget  the 
so  lately  offered  her 
esb,  unsullied  purity 
ith  disgust  from  him 
I  liberty,  and  do  as 
him  in  the  face,  but 
i  silence  with  only  a 

my  good  girl  ?"'  said 
parently  determined 
ny,  on  her  side,  WAt 


jHsf.  as  ('^-.ermined,  and  she,  therefore,  nodded  again. 

"  I  fe?-  your  nurse  is  becoming  deaf,  Rachel  1" 
said  Dr.  Richards,  addressing  his  patient. 

"Oh  dear  no,  doctor,"  said  Rachel,  quickly; 
"Wlnny  hears  quite  well.  I  was  speaking  to  her 
just  before  you  came  in,  and  she  heard  every  word 
I  said.  Bat  Winny  don't  ever  talk  a  great  deal — 
dear  Wlnny,''  and  she  held  out  her  hand  to  her 
nurse  with  a  look  of  the  tenderest  affection. 

"  She  probably  thinks  the  more  I"  was  the  doctor's 
sarcastic  answer,  as  bidding  Rachel  good  morning 
he  hurrif/:  down  stairs.  In  the  hall  he  was  met  by 
Mrs.  Co'y'.ter,  who  invited  him  into  the  front  parlor 
and  asked  how  ho  found  her  daughter. 

"  3h !  your  daughter  goes  on  very  well — very 
well,  indeed.  I  hope  to  have  her  down  stairs  in  a 
week  or  so.  But  what  sort  of  person  is  that  Winny  ?" 
This  was  said  in  a  very  pointed  manner,  and,  as  the 
doctor  expected,  at  once  ezcited  Mrs.  Coulter's 
curiosity. 

'Why,  really,  doctor,  I  hardly  know  how  to 
answer  your  question,  although  she  hat  lived  hero 
for  some  years.     She  is  Irish,  as  you  must  be  aware  I" 

"I  know  it,  Madam,  and,  of  oourse,  that  accounts 
for  some  of  her  eccentricities,  but  there  is  still  ranch 
that  requires  explanation.  Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Coul- 
ter  !  nothing  but  my  great  and  heartfelt  interest  in 
your  family  could  induce  me  to  interfere  in  such 
matters.    Do  you  propose  keepir  j  this  girl  on  ?" 

"  Well  1 1  certainly  did  intend  to  keep  her,  doctor, 


ISA 


CON  o'rkgax  ;  OB, 


but  if  you  Lave  found  out  anything  discreditable— 
of  course,  that  alters  the  case.  I  would  not  keep  a 
doubtful  character  in  my  house  on  any  account. 
Pray,  doctor,  what  have  you  heard  or  seen  that 
makes  you  think  Winny  an  improper  person?" 

"  Oh!  I  beg  your  pardon,  Madam,"  said  the  bland 
physician,  «'I  did  not  say  improper.  That  is  too 
strong  a  word.  I  only  meant  to  state  for  your  in 
formation,  that  Winny  is  very  bold  and  forward  in 
ber  demeanor.  Her  example  is  no  great  advantage 
for  young  ladles,  I  assure  you." 

The  doctor  rose  as  he  said  this,  and  was  moving 
towards  the  door  with  a  grave  and  courteous  bow 
but  Mrs.  Coulter  detained  him. 

"  Well  1  really,  doctor,  you  surprise  me !— now,  let 
Winny  have  what  other  faults  she  might,  I  always 
thought  her  very  modest  indeed.  But  then  there  is 
no  trusting  these  Irish.  They  are  wholly  destitute 
of  principle,  and — how,  indeed,  could  it  be  otherwise, 
benighted  as  they  are  ?  The  mean,  hypocritical  jade ! 
I  shall  pack  her  off  this  very  day  at  an  hour's  notice  1 
I  always  thought  her  too  -smooth  to  be  sincere  !" 

This  unexpected  warm.,a  rather  alarmed  the  doc- 
tor, who  had  good  reasons  for  wishing  to  avoid  a 
Budden  outbreak.  "  Now  really,  Mrs.  Coulter,"  said 
he,  turning  back  a  step  or  two,  "  if  I  had  ever  dream- 
ed of  your  acting  so,  I  should  not  have  said  a  word 
on  the  subject.  I  tell  you,  I  saw  nothing  ponitively 
bad  in  the  girl's  conduct — I  merely  warned  you,  in 
order  to  put  you  on  your  guard     There  is  no  need 


KMIORANT  I.IFB  IN  THE  NRW  WORLD. 


16t 


ng  discreditable— 
would  not  keep  a 
)  on  any  account, 
card  or  seen  tbat 
•per  person  ?" 
im,"  eaid  the  bland 
oper.  That  is  too 
)  state  for  your  in 
)ld  and  forward  in 
QO  great  advantage 

is,  and  was  moving 
ind  courteous  bow 

jrise  me !— now,  let 
16  might,  I  always 

But  then  there  is 
ire  wholly  destitute 
mid  it  be  otherwise, 
n,  hypocritical  jade ! 
at  an  hour's  notice  I 
1  to  be  sincere  !" 
sr  alarmed  the  doc- 
wishing  to  avoid  a 
Mrs.  Coulter,"  said 
if  I  had  ever  dream- 
ot  have  said  a  word 
V  nothing  poHitively 
rely  warned  you,  in 

There  is  no  need 


to  exasperate  Mr,  Coulter  at  present  by  bringing 
any  charge  against  his  favorite,  and,  besides,  my  dear 
Madam,  what  would  your  daughter  do  just  now 
without  her?  Just  lot  matters  stand  as  they  are 
until  Rachel  is  quite  recovered,  and  then  you  can 
quietly  dismiss  Winny  without  assigning  any  reasons. 
That  is  my  advice,  and  I  speak,  as  you  are  well 
aware,  from  my  sincere  friendship  for  you.  I  do 
not  desire  to  injure  this  girl,  but  rather  to  serve  you." 

The  doctor's  reasoning  was  so  cogent  that  the  lady 
was  forced  to  yield,  though  she  did  so  with  great 
reluctance.  She  knew  it  would  be  next  to  impossi- 
ble to  convince  Mr.  Coulter  of  any  impropriety  on 
the  part  of  Winny,  and  neither  could  Winny's  pre- 
sence be  very  well  dispensed  with  as  matters  stood, 
so  Mrs.  Coulter  bad  nothing  for  it  but  to  "  bide  her 
time."  The  doctor,  on  his  part,  watched  her  from 
under  his  bushy  brows,  as  a  cat  watches  a  mouse, 
and  seeing  that  he  had  brought  her  round  to  the  de- 
sired point,  he  made  his  bow  and  retired,  well  satis- 
fied with  the  result  of  his  first  vengeful  attempt. 

Things  went  on  smoothly  enough  for  five  or  six 
days.  Rachel  was  at  length  convalescent,  and  Dr. 
Richards  discontinued  his  visits,  charging  Mrs.  Coul- 
ter in  a  parting  interview  not  to  do  anything  rash 
with  regard  to  Winny,  but  to  get  her  off  as  quietly 
as  possible.  "  And  while  she  does  remain  in  your 
house,"  said  he,  "  be  careful  how  you  permit  her  to 
Btand  in  the  hall  with  '  tall  Irish  cousins' — or  brothers''* 
—he  added,  with  smiling  emphasis.     "  Be  true  to 


iJifi&faVtK^fl  ■-♦ 


168  CON  o'bkoan  ;  ob, 

your  own  character,  now  as  ever;  uniting  the  gen- 
tleness  of  the  dove  with  the  cunning  of  the  serpent. 
Good-bye,  dear  Mrs.  Coulter !  I  hope  to  see  you  at 
class-meeting  this  evening." 

«'  If  possible,  I  will  be  there,  doctor.    Good-bye ! 
About  the  end  of  the  week,  Mr.  Coulter  had  tho 
unspeakable  joy  of  assisting  Racl.el  down  sta.rs  to 
her  usual  place  in  the  family  circle.    Winny  was 
hardly  less  rejoiced,  and  she  could  not  help  follow- 
ing the  father  and  daughter  to  tho  dining-room 
door,  80  as  to  enjoy  unseen  the  pride  and  pleasure 
of  seeing  Miss  Rachel  in  her  old  place.    Tears  of 
joy  coursed  each  other  down  her  pale  cheek  as  she 
observed  the  trembling  eagerness  with  which  Mr. 
Coulter  anticipated  his  daughter's  wishes  and  sup- 
plied her  little  wants.    Having  feasted  for  a  few 
pleasant  moments  on  this  joyful  scene,  she  stole  up 
to  her  own  little  room  on  the  attic  story,  where, 
mtiing  down  on  the  side  of  her  bed,  she  began  seri- 
ously to  think  of  what  she  had  next  to  do. 

"  It'll  be  hard  for  me  to  get  away  from  here,"  said 
she  to  herpolf,  "  as  Mrs.  Coulter  has  no  girl.  To  be 
sure,  she'll  soon  get  as  many  as  she  wants,  when 
onoe  the  sickness  is  over,  an'  I  can't  think  of  leavin' 
her  till  she  suits  herself.  If  it  was  only  on  Mr. 
Coulter's  account,  and  Miss  Rachel's,  I'd  stay  longer 
than  that  to  oblige  the  family,  though,  goodness 
knows !  I  don't  owe  the  mistress  anything !  Bat 
then— no  matter— if  «he  asks  me  to  stay,  I  will,  •! 
any  rate." 


■;  uniting  the  gen. 

)ing  of  the  serpent. 

hope  to  see  you  at 

>ctor.  Good-bye !" 
Ir.  Coulter  bad  Iho 
chel  down  stairs  to 
sirole.  Winny  waa 
aid  not  help  folio w- 
Lo  the  dining-room 

pride  and  pleasure 
id  place.  Tears  of 
er  pale  cheek  as  she 
689  with  which  Mr. 
er's  wishes  and  sup- 
^  feasted  for  a  few 
d  scene,  she  stole  up 
i  attic  story,  where, 

bed,  she  began  seri- 
next  to  do. 
iway  from  here,"  said 
p  has  no  girl.    To  be 

as  she  wants,  when 
can't  think  of  leavin' 
it  was  only  on  Mr. 
ichel's,  I'd  stay  longer 
y,  though,  goodness 
.ress  anything !  But 
me  to  stay,  I  will,  at 


KUIORAKT  UFE  IN  THK  NRff  WORLD. 


169 


Having  thus  made  up  her  mind,  Winny  went 
down  stairs  again,  and  seeing  that  tea  was  over,  she 
timidly  asked  at  the  door :  "  May  I  take  down  the 
tea-thinge,  ma'am  ?" 

"  Yes !"  said  Mrs.  Coulter,  with  more  than  her 
usual  coldness.  Winny  cleared  the  table,  without 
a  word,  and  Mr.  Coulter  gave  a  reproving  glance  at 
his  wife,  who  only  smiled  contemptuously,  as  she 
walked  with  her  daughters  into  the  front  parlor. 

About  an  hour  after,  when  Winny  had  just  finish- 
ed washing  the  tea-things,  Mrs.  Coulter  made  her 
appearance  in  the  kitchen,  and  told  her  that  as  she 
had  now  fulfilled  her  engagement,  she  was  at  liberty 
to  go  whenever  she  pleased.  Aflfecling  not  to  notice 
Winny's  look  of  surprise,  the  lady  went  on  :  "I 
need  make  no  apology,  for  I  know  you  are  well 
pleased  to  get  away,  Winny  1  You  will  have  no 
trouble,  I  dare  say,  in  finding  another  situation !" 

"I  hope  not,  ma'am,"  said  Winny,  coldly;  "but 
do  you  wish  me  to  leave  to-night  ? — if  so,  I  bad 
better  go  at  once,  as  it  is  getting  late." 

"  Oh  my,  no !  I  should  be  sorry  to  have  you 
leave  at  such  an  hour  as  this.  To-morrow,  after 
breakfast,  I  will  pay  you  whatever  you  think  right 
for  caring  Rachel,  and  you  can  go  then  as  soon  a» 
you  like.    Good  night,  Winny !" 

Winny's  reply  was  scarcely  audible,  for  her  heart 
was  too  full  for  words.  When  Mrs.  Coulter  had 
left  the  kitchen,  nhe  glanced  around  to  see  that 
there  was  nothing  out  of  its  place,  and  then  sat 


no 


CON  o'keoax  ;  on, 


down  in  tbe  darkest  corner,  to  enjoy  the  luxury  of 
grief.  Thankful  that  no  mortal  eyo  beheld  her,  she 
gave  herself  up  for  a  long,  long  time— how  long  she 
hardly  knew — to  the  mournful  reminiscences  of  de^ 
parted  joys,  of  days 

"  Too  purely  bUst  to  last." 

Visions  of  domestic  happiness,  based  on  the  cease- 
less interchange  of  heart-warm  affection,  arose  in 
their  sunny  light,  shedding  a  transitory  beam  on  the 
loneliness  and  desolation  of  her  state  at  that  hour. 
Soothed  by  these  sad  yet  sweet  recollections,  she 
gradually  began  to  remember  that  a'l  the  past  was 
not  effaced— all  her  loved  ones  not  yet  gone.    She 
■was  not  yet  al:ine  in  the  wide  world.     Her  brother 
remained,  and  what  was  more,  she  had  him  wiihin 
ten  minutes'  walk  of  her.    Why  then  should  she  do- 
ppond?    Why  should  Mrs.  Coulter's  heartless  in- 
gratitude cause  her  so  much  pain  ?    "  Sure  I  had  no 
right  to  expect  anything  else  fi  om  the  same  woman,"' 
said  she  to  herself,  "for  it's  little  else  ever  I  saw  by 
her.    It  wasn't  for  her  sake  I  did  what  I  did,  an'  I'd 
cheerfully  do  it  over  again  for  the  master— God's 
blessin'  be  ab-.nt  him  now  and  forever!    And  sure 
isn't  he  putting  Con  in  a  fair  way  of  doin'  well  in 
earnest,  an'  please  God  he'll  have  a  place  of  his  own 
far  away  from  this,  an'  he'll  have  Biddy  and"  the 
little  ones  out  in  no  time,  an'  I'll  bo  there  to  see  it 
all — with  God's  assistance,"  she  &dded,  suddenly  re- 
collecting herself.    "Ah!   Mrs.   Coulter  dear,  it'i 


>r.>A«i*w*.^!«<*aSi«iS8»ll*l«w^t»**»*«»**»«»»'««^*«'*^^ 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLn. 


ni 


;rjoy  the  luxury  of 
eyo  beheld  her,  she 
Lime — how  long  she 
eminiBcences  of  de« 


last." 

jased  on  the  cease- 

afifectioi],  arose  in 

nsitory  beam  on  the 

•  state  at  that  hour. 
;t  recollections,  she 
hat  a'/  the  past  was 
not  yet  gone.  She 
?^orld.  Her  brother 
she  had  him  wiihin 

•  then  should  she  do- 
lulter's  iieartless  in- 
n  ?  "  Sure  I  had  no 
m  the  same  woman,"' 
le  else  ever  I  saw  by 
id  -what  I  did,  an'  I'd 
r  the  master — God's 

forever!  And  sure 
way  of  doin'  well  in 
re  a  place  of  his  own 
have  Biddy  and"  the 
'11  bo  there  to  see  it 
added,  suddenly  re- 
I.   Coulter  dear,  it't 


little  I'd  care  about  your  odd  ways  then!  But  if 
anything  comes  to  prevent  it"— yes!  that  was  a 
serious  consideration !— but  "Winny's  sanguine  hopes 
—so  newly  excited — were  not  to  be  so  easily  crushed, 
and  she  quickly  answered  her  own  saddening  doubt, 
with  her  favorite  axiom—"  It's  all  in  the  hands  of 
God,  and  Hell  bring  this  about  and  everything  else 
that's  good  for  ns,  just  as  he  brought  me  safe  through 
the  dangers  of  the  last  two  or  three  weeks!— 1  know 
He  will !"  and  with  that,  Winny  jumped  from  her 
seat,  and  bounded  up  the  stairs  as  buoyant  as  hope 
could  make  her,  to  answer  the  master's  ring,  which 
just  then  echoed  through  the  house. 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  and  nodded  in  a  way 
peculiar  to  himself,  saying,  as  Winny  took  his  hat, 
"It  does  mo  good,  Winny,  to  see  you  at  your  post 

again  1" 

Winny's  thanks  were  cut  short  by  the  shrill  voice 
of  Mrs.  Coulter,  whose  head  projected  from  the 
dining-room  door,  back  in  the  hall.  "  Is  that  Mr. 
Coulter  ?"  was  her  somewhat  superfluous  question. 

"  Don't  you  see  it  is  ?"  replied  her  husband,  who 
somehow  did  not  relish  the  question  or  the  tone  in 
which  it  was  put. 

"  Well !  I  didn't  know  but  it  might  be  some  of 
Winny's  visitors,  and  I  have  no  idea  of  permitting 
such  people  to  be  introduced  here  at  such  a  time." 

Winny  was  already  at  the  head  of  the  kitchen- 
stairs,  but  she  turned  back  on  hearing  this  singular 
tpeeob,  and  confronting  Mrs.  Coulter  with  a  more 


§. 


173 


coK  o'keoan      )R, 


confident  look  than  she  had,  probably,  ever  before 
assumed,  or  had  had  occasion  to  assume,  she  said  : 
"  Will  you  please  to  tell  me,  Mrs.  Coulter,  what  you 
mean  by  them  words  ?" 

"That  is  hardly  necessary,"  said  Mrs.  Coulter, 
turning  mto  the  ro^m;  "I  rather  think  you  under- 
stand my  meaning." 

"  I  do  not,"  said  Winny,  firmly,  "  but  I  must  and 
will  know  it.     Mr.  Coulter,  I  appeal  to  you,  sir." 

"  Prudence,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  very  gravely,  "  I 
see  you  have  got  some  new  notion  in  your  head. 
Be  80  good  as  to  explain  it.  1  am  confident  that 
Winny  has  nothing  to  fear  from  your  speaking  out, 
and,  moreover,  she  has  a  right  to  demand  an  expla 
nation !" 

Thus  pressed,  Mrs.  Coulter  was  on  the  point  of 
repeating  what  she  had  heard  to  Winny's  disadvan- 
tage, when  Buddculy  remembering  the  doctor's 
solemn  injunction  of  secrecy,  she  wrapped  herself 
up  once  more  in  her  freezing  and  tantalizing  reserve. 

"Don't  be  too  confident,  Samuel!"  she  said,  ad- 
dressing her  husband ;  "  it  may  be  quite  as  well  for 
Winny  that  I  should  withhold  the  desired  explana- 
tion—people do  not  always  know  what  is  good  for 
them.  At  all  events,  both  you  and  she  may  rest 
assured  that  I  will  not  speak  another  word  on  the 
bubject  this  night.     Qo  down  stairs,  Winny  !" 

Winny  felt  half  inclined  to  persist  in  her  demand, 
but  Mr.  Coulter  seeing  that  his  wife  was  fully  deter- 
mined to  keep  her  secret  for  that  time,  sMd  to 


A^' 


,,^^,,tifm>mt^^il'»fl"<lt'«'«'^^cfMmwiffmtsiiK.- 


BMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THB  NEW  WORLD. 


ITS 


bably,  ever  before 
assume,  she  said : 
Coulter,  wbat  you 

laid  Mrs.  Coulter, 
think  you  under* 

■,  "  but  I  must  and 
jeal  to  you,  sir." 

very  gravely,  "  I 
Lion  in  your  head, 
am  confident  that 
your  speaking  out, 
I  demand  an  expla 

,8  on  the  point  of 
Winny's  disadvan- 
3ring  the  doctor's 
le  wrapped  herself 
tantalizing  reserve, 
uel !"  she  said,  ad- 
)e  quite  as  well  for 
he  desired  explana- 
w  what  is  good  for 
and  she  may  rest 
other  word  on  the 
lirs,  Winny !" 
'sist  in  her  demand, 
?ife  was  fully  d«ter- 
tbat  time,  sMd  to 


Winny :  "  You  may  as  well  do  as  she  bids  you, 
Winny.  There  is  time  enough  to  soo  to  thii 
matter." 

Obedient  to  her  master's  kindly-meant  advice, 
Winny  descended  to  the  kitchen,  but  not  before  she 
heard  Rachel  saying  from  her  place  on  a  low  sofa 
near  the  fire:  "  Dear  ma!  how  can  you  talk  so  to 
poor  Winny  ?    Think  of  all  her  kindness  to  me !" 

What  the  mother  said  was  lost  to  Winny's  ears, 
for  she  had  no  wish  to  act  the  eavesdropper,  but 
her  heart  swelled  with  grateful  affection  for  Rachel, 
as  she  murmured  within  herself:  "  She's  her  father's 
daughter,  every  inch  of  her! — I  did  nothing  for 
you,  poor  child  !  but  what  I'd  do  again  to-morrow, 
if  you  stood  in  need  of  it,  let  your  mother  be  as 
she  may !" 

Next  morning,  Winny  was  up  betimes,  and  had 
the  breakfast  almost  ready  when  Mrs.  Coulter 
entered  the  kitchen,  although  she,  too,  was  stirring 
earlier  than  usual. 

"  You  can  go  now  as  soon  as  you  like,"  said  the 
lady  of  the  house,  with  a  frigid  reserve,  intended  to 
prevent  Winny  from  asking  troublesome  questions. 
'«  How  much  have  I  to  give  you  ? 

"  Nothing,  ma'am, — ^not  a  oent  I  I  wouldn't  do 
what  I  di  1  for  any  money,- -I  did  it  on  account  of 
ay  master's  kindness,  and  because  I  have  a  likin' 
for  Miss  Rachel,  ind  I'll  nfiver  handle  a  farthing  of 
your  money,  Mrs.  Coulter,  with  my  knowledge  or 
consent.     All  I  want  of  you,  ma'am,  is  to  tell  me 


lU 


COM  o'rcoak  ;  OR, 


what  you  liavo  ia  again  lue,  an'  I'll  not  leave  the 
bouse  till  I  hear  it  !" 

Fearing  lest  her  husband  should  be  down  stairs 
before  she  could  get  rid  of  Winny,  Mrs.  Coulter 
forgot  herself  so  far  as  to  say  : 

"  Ask  Dr.  Richards— /ze'//  tell  you !"  The  words 
were  scarcely  uttered  when  she  was  heartily  sorry, 
but  it  was  too  late  to  retract. 

"  Dr.  Richards,  ma'am  !"  said  Winny,  turning  red 
and  then  pale;  "so  he's  at  the  bouora  of  the  mis- 
chief!— I  might  have  guessed  as  much  if  I  had  only 
thought  a  minute.  Dr.  Richards-indeed !— if  he  had 
his  way,  I'd  be  what  he  says  I  am — but  what  am  I 
saying  ? — I  musn't  forget  my  duty  as  a  Christian ! — 
May  the  Lord  forgive  him,  poor  man !  as  I  forgive 
him  this  day — though  it's  hard  enough  to  do  it,  I 
don't  deny — but  still  I  do  forgive  him,  as  I  hope  to 
be  forgiven  at  my  last  hour  ! — well!  good-bye,  Mrc. 
Coulter ;  I  suppose  there's  nothing  more  to  be  said 
— if  you  can  so  easily  be  made  to  suspect  a  person 
who  has  lived  in  your  family  for  nigh  five  years, 
anything  I  could  say  wouldn't  alter  your  opinion. 
I  leave  ray  case  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  He'll  show, 
in  His  own  good  time,  whether  Dr.  Richards  and 
you  wronged  me  or  not.  Good-bye,  ma'am !  I  sup- 
pose you  don't  want  me  to  see  Mr.  Coulter  before 
i  go,  80,  of  course,  I'll  not  ask  to  see  him.  He 
knows  my  heart,  and  that'a  enough  for  me." 
Taking  up  her  little  bundle,  she  was  leaving  tb« 


•\  4 


n'  I'll  not  leave  the 

iild  be  down  stairs 
Vinny,  Mrs.  Coulter 

1  you  !"    The  words 
a  was  heartily  sorry, 

Winny,  turning  red 
bouom  of  the  mis- 
9  much  if  I  had  only 
Js-indeed!— if  hehad 
am — but  what  am  I 
aty  as  a  Christian ! — 
or  man  I  as  I  forgive 
I  enough  to  do  it,  I 
Lve  him,  as  I  hope  to 
well !  good-bye,  Mrp. 
hing  more  to  be  said 
3  to  suspect  a  person 
for  nigh  five  years, 
i  alter  your  opinion. 
God,  and  IIo'll  show, 
jr  Dr.  Richards  and 
-by  e,  ma'am !  I  s  o  p- 
I  Mr.  Coulter  before 
)k  to  see  him.  He 
i  enough  for  me." 
she  was  leaving  tb« 


tMIORANT  I.IFB  IN  THK  NEW  WOULD. 


116 


kitchen  when  Mrs.  Conlter  delayed  her  a  moment 
to  insist  on  her  taking  payment. 

"  Yon  really  must  take  something  for  your  trouble, 
Winny  !    I  cannot  let  you  go  unpaid." 

<'  I've  told  you  already,  ma'am,  that  I  never  mean 
to  handle  a  cent  of  your  money  ! '  repeated  Winny, 
endeavoring  to  suppress  her  indignation.  "No 
money  could  make  up  to  me  for  the  wrong  you  have 
done  me,  so  say  no  more  about  it.     Let  me  go  m 

^^^'^But  won't    you  have  some    breakfast  before 

you  go?" 

"  No,  ma'am,  thank  you  !-not  a  bit.  I'll  have  my 
breakfast  where  I  know  I'm  welcome." 

Nothing  more  was  said  on  either  side,  and  Winny, 
quickening  her  steps  on  hearing  Mr.  Coulter  moving 
above,  made  her  way  to  the  door,  and  thence  to  the 
street  with  the  least  possible  noise. 

When  Mr.  Coulter  came  down  to  breakfast  he 
was  informed  by  his  wife  that  Winny  was  "  gone 
off  in  a  pet— pretty  work,  indeed  !"  she  added,  "  for 
no  other  reason  than  my  giving  her  that  friendly 
advice  last  evening.  Ah !  Samuel,  Samuel.  I  fear 
yon  and  I  were  both  mistaken  in  that  girl !" 

"  I  don't  know  as  to  you,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, tartly,  "  but  I  have  never  been  mistaken  in 
Winny.  Never,  never.  Prudence  !  nor  never  will,  I 
am  pretty  certain.  I  have  always  thought  her  a 
most  excellent  girl,  and  so  I  think  her  still,  Mrs. 
Coulter.    Pretty  work,  you  say,  and  so  say  I,  but 


176 


CON   o'KZOiK  ;   OB, 


in  a  far  different  sense.  Pretty  work,  indeed,  to 
see  such  a  girl  turned  out  of  this  house  after  her 
long.and  faithful  services — and,  above  all,  after  this 
last  heroic  act  of  hers! — ah !  woman,  you  may  well 
bo  ashamed  of  yourself !  yon  are  unworthy  of  having 
a  faithful  servant,  since  you  cannot  appreciate 
fidelity.  You  have  been  listening  to  some  black- 
hearted, foul-mouthed  knave — most  likely  one  of 
your  canting  friends,  who  has  never  a  good  word 
for  anything  Irish,  and  you  have  punished  yourself, 
I  can  assure  you,  not  Winny, — she  will  make  friends, 
wherever  she  goes,  and  her  character  will  stand  the 
test  of  inquiry,  but  you  have  deprived  yourself  of 
Guch  a  servant  as  you  will  never  have  again  on  your 
floor  I — get  my  breakfast,  will  you  ?" 

"  Why,  Samuel,  how  you  do  talk  !— if  you  only 
knew  who  it  was  thi.t  told  me,  you  wouldn't  speak 
so  lightly  of  the  matter  I' 

"  I  don't  care  who  it  is,  Mrs.  Coulter !  if  it  was 
the  Rev.  Irving  Peabody  himself  I  wouldn't  believe 
it  any  more  than  I  do  now !  Make  !iaste  with  the 
breakfast,  I  tell  you,  and  let  me  go  to  my  business  I" 

Imnedlately  after  leaving  Mr.  Coulter's,  "Winny 
proceeded  to  Paul  Bergen's,  where,  standing  on  the 
steps  outside  the  door,  she  bade  Mrs.  Berg»n  "good 
morning,"  asking  whether  she  might  venture  in. 
Nora  ran  forward  with  outstretched  ..unds  to  receive 
her,  crying  out  even  before  she  reached  her :  "  Ven- 
ture in,  Winny  !— ay !  indeed  might  you  if  it  was  a 
plague-house  you  were  comin'  from.    Come  in,  astora 


wm 


ty  work,  indeed,  to 
this  house  after  her 

above  all,  after  this 
Oman,  you  may  well 
I  unworthy  of  having 
cannot  appreciate 
ling  to  some  black- 
■most  likely  one  of 

never  a  good  word 
'^e  punished  yourself, 
he  will  make  friends, 
racier  will  stand  the 
leprived  yourself  of 

•  have  again  on  your 
-ouP" 

•  talk  ! — if  you  only 
you  wouldn't  speak 

i.  Coulter !  if  it  was 
If  I  wouldn't  believe 
Sdake  haste  with  the 
go  to  my  business  I" 
tr.  Coulter's,  Winny 
lerc,  standing  on  the 
I  Mrs.  Berg»n  "good 
might  venture  in. 
ihed  ..ands  to  receive 
reached  her :  "  Ven- 
sigltt  you  if  it  was  a 
om.    Come  in,  astora 


KMIORANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WOBU). 


nt 


machree,  until  I  get  a  right  look  at  you.  Well !  sure 
enough,  you  don't  look  one-half  so  bad  as  I  thought 
you  would.  An'  so,  with  the  blessiu'  of  God,  you've 
escaped  the  fever !— och !  sure,  sure,  aren't  you  the 
lucky  girl,  an'  amn't  I  tb'^  joyful  woman  to  see  yoG 
lookin'  so  well  after  your  long  fatigue— Glory,  honor, 
and  praise  be  to  God  !" 

The  children  were  almost  wild  with  joy  to  sep 
their  favorite  once  again,  aud  the  two  elder  pouted  a 
good  deal  because  they  had  to  go  to  school  that  fore- 
noon.    But  finding  that  their  mother  was  inflexible, 
aud  being  assured  by  Winny  that  they  should  find 
her  there  on  their  return,  they  at  length  made  their 
exit,  looking  as  woe-begone  as  possible.     Whilst 
Winny  put  her  clothes  in  the  box,  remarking  as  she 
did  80  that  she  had  washed  them  well  the  day  be- 
fore, Nora  had  some  tea  drawn,  and  a  nice  round  of 
toast  made,  and  poor  Winny  required  no  pressing, 
for,  as  she  said  herself,  what  Mrs.  Bergen  gave 
out  of  her  hand  did  a  body  good,  it  was  given  with 
such  a  good  heart. 

'■  An'  now,  Winny,  what's  the  news  ?"  said  her 
anxious  friend ;  "  I  thought  you'd  be  prevailed  upon 
to  stay  at  Mr.  Coulter's." 

•'  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mrs.  Bergen  dear,  I 
wasn't  asked  to  stay.  Mrs.  Coulter  seems  to  have 
taken  some  dislike  to  me,  an'  as  soon  as  ever  Miss 
Rachel  was  able  to  go  about,  she  warned  me  to  clear 
out.  She  was  in  the  kitchen  this  morning  bright  an' 
early,  to  get  me  away  before  the  master  was  afoot." 


i^.MUfitsiifttiffK^^j^- 


m 


COM    O'rKOaN  ;   OB, 


_  The  Lord  bless  me,  Winny,  xrhat  6ort  of  a  woman 
18  she  at  all?— why,  she  must  have  a  heart  as  hard  as 
a  slone  I"  Poor  Nora's  earnest  simplicity  brought 
a  smile  to  Winuy's  face,  but  she  merely  answered : 
"  I  don't  know  how  it  is.  To  tell  the  truth  of  her 
I  never  found  her  hard-hearted  until  now-she  had 
always  a  cold,  stiff  kind  of  a  way  with  her,  but  then 
she  had  more  feeliu'  iu  her  at  times  than  a  body 
would  think.  God  knows  how  it  is,  and  to  Him  I 
leave  It.  I'm  goin'  to  Father  Timlin  on  Saturday 
please  God,  before  I  go  to  any  other  place,  ar'  I'll 
speak  to  him  about  it,  an'  see  what  he'll  say." 

It  will  be  seen  that  Winny,  with  her  usual  pru- 
dence, gave  no  hint  of  the  real  state  of  the  caoe. 
Wixen  Saturday  came  she  went  to  Father  Timlin,  and 
after  finishing  her  confession,  told  him  as  briefly  ag 
possible  the  whole  affair  from  beginning  to  end 

"And  now,  father,"  said  she,  "  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  what's  best  for  me  to  do." 

"Have  you  spoken  of  this  to  any  one-I  mean  of 
that  man's  conduct  towards  you  ?" 
"  No,  father,  not  a  word !" 

•'You  have  acted  wisely,  ray  child,  and  as  became 
a  Christian.  Persevere  in  the  same  course,  and  be 
stire  that  God  wiH  UU.  care  of  your  reputation. 
Nothing  short  of  actual  necessity  should  induce  you 
to  8peak  of  8uch  a  thing.  The  evil  designs  of  that 
bad  man  were  defeated  through  the  ever-watchf,,! 
care  of  Providence,  and  your  own  prompt  decision. 
Ue  of  good  heart,  daughter,  for  the  shafts  of  the 


OB, 

what  sort  of  a  woman 
ave  a  heart  as  hard  as 
St  simplicity  brought 
le  merely  answered  : 
o  tell  the  truth  of  her 
d  until  now — she  had 
ay  with  ber,  but  then 
at  time??  than  a  body 
!!■  it  is,  and  to  Him  I 
Timlin  on  Saturday, 
y  other  place,  an'  I'll 
i^hat  he'll  say." 

with  her  usual  pru- 
al  state  of  the  caoe. 
to  Father  Timlin,  and 
>ld  him  as  briefly  a» 
eginning  to  end. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell 

any  one— I  mean  of 

I?" 

CJhild,  and  as  became 
same  coarse,  and  be 
of  your  reputation, 
y  sliould  inc'uco  you 
evil  designs  of  that 
h  the  ever-watchfiil 
vn  prompt  decision. 
r  the  shafts  of  the 


EMIGRANT  I.TFE  IN  THE  NEW   WOItl.n. 


179 


wicked  one  fall  powerless  when  aimed  at  those  who 
love  God  and  trust  in  Him !" 

Strengthened  and  consoleil  by  these  paternal 
counsels,  Winny  returned  to  her  temporary  home, 
her  mind  freed  from  every  shadow  of  uneasiness,  and 
prepared  to  take  anything  that  might  befal  her  as 
coming  from  the  hand  of  6od.  She  saw  Con  that 
same  evening,  and  heard  all )  .  had  to  communicato 
with  regard  to  his  change  of  prospects. 

"  I  went  to  see  the  old  ladies,"  said  he,  "  as  Mr. 
Coulter  told  me,  and  they  say  they'll  lend  me  the 
money  with  all  the  pleasure  in  life.  I  declare  they're 
two  fine  old  ladies,  Winny,  just  the  model  of  the 
master  himself,  one  of  them  especially,  that's  Miss 
Debby,  the  youngest  of  the  two.  An'  so,  it's  all 
settled  now  that  I'm  to  go  out  to  Iowa  early  in  the 
spring,  if  I  can  find  anybody  goin'.  But  sure  if  I 
don't,  Winny  dear,  I'd  never  find  my  Avay  at  all- 
how  could  I  ?" 

"  Oh  !  never  mind  that,  Con,"  said  his  sister,  with 
tears  that  were  neither  all  joy  nor  all  sorrow  trick- 
ling down  her  faded  cheek;  "  if  it'a  thj  will  of  God 
for  you  to  go,  you'll  get  safe  to  your  journey's  end, 
you  may  be  sure  I  But  what  about  Biddy  and  the 
children  ? — won't  you  wait  for  them?" 

"  Oh  no,  Winny,  the  master  says  it's  best  for  me 
to  go  out  there  and  prepare  a  home  for  them  and 
you  before  I  send  for  you.  You'll  just  stay  as  you 
are  till  they  come  out  from  Ireland,  and  then,  with 
Giod'a  help,  I'll  send  for  you  all!" 


i'S(e>-i 


T 


180 


CON    o'rBGAN  ;    OR, 


Winny  smiled  through  her  tears,  and  was  about 
CO  speak,  but  Paul  Bergen  broke  out  with : 

"  I  wish  to  the  Lord  I  was  able  to  go  with  you, 
Con !— if  I  was,  I  wouldn't  call  the  king  my  cousip. 
But  sure,  sore,"  he  added,  with  a  sigh,  "  what  chance 
has  poor  Paul  Bergen  of  such  a  turn-np  as  that  ?" 

"Hut,  tut,  man,  don't  be  so  faint-hearted,"  said 
Con ;  "  you  don't  know  what  may  be  in  store  for 
you.  See  what  lack  came  to  me,  jast  when  I  wa» 
least  expectin'  it." 

"  True  for  you,  Con,"  put  in  Nora ;  "  people  can 
make  luck  for  themselves  if  they  only  try— that  is, 
with  the  blessin'  of  God.  And  sure,  Paul  dear,  if 
we  never  get  any  uprise,  only  jist  keep  as  we  are, 
why  we  can't  complain.  For  my  part,  I'm  as  well 
content  as  any  poor  woman  needs  to  be— if  we  can 
only  get  the  children  brought  up  in  the  love  and 
fear  of  God,  I  wish  for  nothing  more." 

"  Yes,  but  Nora,"  said  her  husband,  "  if  sickness 
was  to  come  on  me,  or  death— what  would  you  and 
the  children  do?— you're  not  able  for  any  hard 
work,  an'  so  they'd  have  an  excuse  that  you  weren't 
fit  to  puppoit  them,  an'  they'd  take  them  every  one 
from  you,  f^t^  like  as  not,  an'  cram  them  into  some 
^cursed  school,  or  House  of  Refuge,  as  they  call 
them,  bad  luck  to  them  for  man-traps,  as  they  are  ! 
where  they'd  be  made  ')Iaok  Protestants  of.  How 
would  you  like  that,  Noia  ?" 
"The  Lord  save  us,  Paul!"  said  Nora,  with  a 


OB, 

tears,  and  was  abont 
ke  out  -with : 
able  to  go  with  you, 
1  the  king  mj  coueip. 
a  sigh,  "  what  chance 
a  turn-up  as  that  ?" 

0  faint-hearted,"  said 
may  be  in  store  for 
me,  just  when  I  wa« 

1  Nora ;  "  people  can 
ley  only  try— that  is, 
d  sure,  Paul  dear,  if 

jist  keep  as  we  are, 

my  part,  I'm  as  well 

Beds  to  be — if  we  can 

t  up  in  the  love  and 

r  more." 

busband,  « if  sinkness 
-what  would  you  and 
b  able  for  any  hard 
Buse  that  you  weren't 
take  them  every  one 
ram  them  into  some 
Refage,  as  they  call 
kn-traps,  as  they  are  ! 
*rotestant8  of.     How 

'  said  Nora,  with  a 


EUIGBAK7  LIFE  IM  THK  NEW  WORLD. 


181 


pale  cheek  and  a  quivering  lip ;    "  don't  be  talkin' 
that  way— don't  now,  an'  God  bless  you," 

"  Well,  I'm  only  just  telling  you  what  might  hap- 
pen if  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  call  me  away ;  an' 
30W  don't  you  think  it  would  be  a  good  chance  if 
we  could  get  on  a  farm  away  out  in  a  new  place, 
amongst  our  own  country  people,  where  we'd  havo 
no  trouble  in  bringing  up  the  children,  an'  where 
you'd  have  a  house  and  a  lot  of  land  to  rear  them  on  ? 
eh!  Nora?" 

Poor  Nora's  eyes  brightened  at  the  cheering  pros- 
pect, but  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  she  said  :  "  Where's 
the  use  talkin',  though,  of  what  can  never  come  to 
pass  ?" 

« Never  ik  a  long  time,  Mrs.  Bergen,"  remarked 
Con,  as  he  moved  towards  the  door ;  "  don't  forget 
the  old  saying  :  '  Hope  well  and  have  well !' — ^good- 
bye now,  all  of  you— I'll  be  here  again,  Winny,  lio- 
morrow  evening,  please  God  I" 


183 


CON  o'bbgan  ;  01, 


re 


oc 
ki 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Late  in  the  forenoon  on  the  following  day,  "Winny 
waa  surprised  by  a  visit  from  two  elderly  ladies, 
dressed  exactly  alike,  in  muff  and  tippet  of  rich 
marten,  and  long  cloak  of  the  finest  cloth.  These 
were  the  two  Miss  Coulters,  who,  equally  benevo- 
lent with  their  brother,  had  come  to  take  Winny 
home  with  them. 

"We  keep  but  one  servant,  Winny,"  said  Miss 
Coulter,  "  and  we  have  had  the  same  one  for  three 
years.  Of  course,  we  couldn't  think  of  parting  her, 
but  my  brother  says  that  you  can  do  plain  work 
very  well,  and  so  we  can  find  employment  for  you. 
But  you  must  not  expect  high  wages,  Winny !— four 
dollars  a  month  is  as  much  as  we  can  give  you,  as 
we  pay  Letty  seven,  and  eleven  dollars  a  month  is 
as  much  as  wo  can  well  afford.  But  then  we  can 
promise  you  a  comfortable,  quiet  home,  and  Letty 
and  you  will  get  on  well  together — I  am  sure  you 
will.    Don't  you  think  so,  Debbj-  i"' 

Miss  Dobby  did  think  so,  and  added  that  Letty 
was  an  Irish  girl,  too — "  that  is,"  said  she,  "  she  ia 
of  Irish  parents.    She  is  not  of  your  religion,  Wiuny 


IS 

b 


U 

t: 

n 

(I 

a 

a 
f 
f 
I 
1 


««. 


EMIGRANT  UFK  W  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


183 


:  XI. 

5  following  day,  Winny 
jm  two  elderly  ladies, 
iff  and  tippet  of  rich 
lie  finest  cloth.  These 
I,  who,  equally  benevo- 
I  come  to  take  Winny 

nt,  Winny,"  said  Miss 
the  same  one  for  three 
't  think  of  parting  her, 
i-oa  can  do  plain  work 
I  employment  for  you. 
h  wages,  Winny ! — four 
as  we  can  give  you,  as 
ven  dollars  a  month  is 
»rd.  But  then  we  can 
quiet  home,  and  Letty 
gether — I  am  sure  you 
3bb>  <"' 

and  added  that  Letty 
,t  is,"  said  she,  "  she  is 
if  your  religion,  Wiuny 


but  you  mustn't  mind  that.  There's  no  need  quar. 
relling  about  religion." 

«'  Well  1"  eaid  Mrs.  Coulter,  "  do  you  think  you'll 
come,  Winny  ?" 

«'  Oh !  indeed,  then  I  will,  miss,  and  thank  you 
kindly  for  the  offer." 

"  Very  good,  Winny !  we  have  a  carriage  at  the 
door,  you  see,  and  will  take  you  right  off." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  miss,"  said  Winny,  hesitatingly, 
"  but  Mrs.  Bergen — that's  the  woman  of  the  house- 
is  gone  out  to  market,  an'  I  can't  well  go  till  she  gets 
back." 

"  Oh !  if  that's  all,  we  can  wait— can't  we,  Deb- 

by?" 

"  Certainly  1"  Miss  Debby  said,  and  down  the  two 
ladies  sat  on  chairs  previously  dusted  by  Winny 
with  much  care.  So  they  called  to  them  little  Jim, 
who  had  been  whipping  his  top  before  their  en- 
trance, but  had  forthwilh  retreated  into  a  remote  cor- 
ner,  whence  he  looked  with  wondering  eyes  on  the 
"  grand  ladies,"  dwelling  with  as  much  curiosity  as 
admiration  on  their  rich  furs,  which  were  something 
new  to  Jim.  It  required  many  pressing  invitations 
from  the  ladies,  enforced  by  an  imperative  command 
from  Winny,  before  the  urchin  would  leave  his  cor- 
ner, but  at  length  he  moved  slowly  out  of  his  en- 
trenchment behind  a  chair,  and  lash  in  hand,  ap- 
proached Miss  Debby  as  the  most  prepossessing  of 
the  two.  At  first  the  child  was  rather  shy,  but  after 
%  while  he  became  quite  communicative,  and  even 


184 


TON    0  REGAN  ;    OR, 


ventured  to  aak  what  they  were,  poiating  to  Iha 
furs. 

"  These,  child  ?"  said  the  good-natured  Debby  ; 
"oh  I  these  are  the  skins  of  animals  made  into  clolh< 
ing  for  men  and  women."  This  solution  was  far 
from  being  satisfactory  to  Jim,  who  continued  to 
eye  the  mysterious  objects  from  time  to  time,  as 
though  he  wished  he  could  make  out  what  manner 
of  things  they  were.  The  visitors  gradually  wound 
themselves  into  the  boy's  confidence,  and  he  would 
willingly  have  given  them  the  most  minute  informa- 
tion concerning  matters  in  general  appertaining  to 
the  household,  had  they  not  themselves  turned  his 
thoughts  into  another  channel,  by  asking  if  he  was 
Borry  to  lose  Winny. 

"  Lose  Winny  ?"  he  repeated,  inquiringly. 

"  Yes,  Winny  is  going  with  us,  you  know." 

Thii  was  very  intelligible  to  Jim,  and  he  replied 
accordingly  :  "  Me  no  let  Winny  go." 

"  Oh  I  but  she  will  come  back  soon  to  see  you." 

The  child  shook  his  head,  and  repeated  stoutly  : 
"  Me  no  let  her  go."  Before  any  more  could  be 
said  his  mother  came  in,  bending  under  the  weight 
of  her  basket,  though  its  contents  were  not  very 
heavy,  and  very  much  flurried,  too,  she  was  at  sight 
of  the  carriage,  Seeing  the  two  ladies  so  quietly 
Bea'ed  in  her  humble  dv/elling  did  not  tend  to  quiet 
her  nerves,  but  she  nevertheless  set  down  her 
basket  and  dropped  a  very  low  curtsey,  saying: 

"Tour  servant,  ladies."    Then  seeing  Winny  put- 


tin{ 

in  { 

yoi 

II 

"tt 

to  : 

( 

the 
ast> 
on( 
I'a 
it'f 
Ui 
yo 

Be 
on 
to 

th( 

mi 

I 

inj 
W 
pa 
qu 

BOi 

til 
th 

Ok 


;  OB, 

rere,  poiatiog  to  tha 

;ood-natared  Debby ; 
limals  made  into  cloih* 
This  solution  was  far 
im,  who  continued  to 
rom  time  to  time,  as 
lake  out  what  manner 
itors  gradually  wound 
ifidence,  and  he  would 
most  minute  informa- 
eneral  appertaining  to 
themselves  turned  hia 
i\,  by  asking  if  he  was 

d,  inquiringly. 

us,  you  know." 
9  Jim,  and  he  replied 
iny  go." 

ok  soon  to  see  you." 
ind  repealed  stoutly : 
e  any  more  could  be 
ding  under  the  weight 
atents  were  not  very 
,  too,  she  was  at  sight 
two  ladies  so  quielly 

did  not  tend  to  quiet 
leless  Bet    down  her 
V  curtsey,  saying: 
Jcn  seeing  Winny  put- 


miGRANT  MFB  IN  THE  NIW  WOBIJ). 


185 


ting  on  her  bonnet,  she  approached  her,  and  asked 
in  a  whisper :  "  What  are  you  about,  honey  ?— sure 
you're  not  going  away  ?" 

"Yes  I  am,"  said  Winny,  in  an  audible  voice; 
"the  two  Miss  Coulters,  you  see,  are  come  for  me 
to  go  an'  live  with  them." 

"  Ha !  ha !"  said  Nora,  exultingly,  unmindful  of 
tho  presence  of  the  ladies  :  "  See  that  now,  Winny 
oi/orc,— that's  just  the  ould  sayin' ;  '  there  never  was 
one  door  shut  but  there  was  another  open.'  Well ! 
I'm  sorry  to  lose  you,  alanna  machree !  but  I  know 
it's  for  your  own  good  this  time,  so  I'll  not  repine. 
May  the  Lord  bless  you,  an'  that  He  will,  wherever 
yon  go." 

After  a  few  civil  words  from  the  sisters  to  Mrs. 
Bergen,  responded  to  by  sundry  smiles  and  blushes 
on  her  part,  they  each  gave  Jim  a  quarter  dollar 
to  buy  "sweeties,"  charging  him  to  divide  with 
the  Janie  and  Patsey  of  whom  ho  had  told  them  so 
much,  and  not  to  forget  the  baby. 

"  But  baby  ha'nt  got  any  teeth,"  said  Jim,  follow- 
ing them  to  the  door,  partly  to  get  a  last  kiss  from 
Winny  and  partly  to  impress  the  fact  of  baby's  inca- 
pacity to  eat  candy  on  the  minds  of  his  new  ac- 
quaintances. "Mother  says  he'll  have  some  teeth 
soon,  though,  and  me  can  keep  some  candy  for  him 
till  then." 

♦'  Very  good,  Jim,"  said  Miss  Debby,  stopping  at 
the  door  to  pat  the  boy's  curly  head,  "  but  I  fear  the 
c»ndy  won't  keep  so  long,"  she  laughingly  added 


186 


CON  o'rbgan  ;  OB, 


T 


•'  Never  mind,  1 11  send  or  bring  you  more  before 
then." 

This  promise  was  very  seasonahle  at  the  momen 
as  it  served  to  divert  Jim's  mind  from  dwelling  ou 
Winny's  departure,  Avhich  he  now  witnessed  with 
philosophic  composure,  wholly  intent  on  showing  his 
prize  to  his  mother,  who  stood  at  the  bottom  of  the 
steps  till  the  carriage  moved  off,  when  having  ex- 
changed a  parting  nod  with  Winny,  she  hastily  ap- 
proached the  cradle  to  look  after  "  poor  baby,"  me- 
ditating the  while  on  the  wonderful  goodness  of  God 
in  providing  for  those  who  love  and  serve  Him.  • 

The  house  occupied  by  the  Misses  Coulter  was  a 
neat,  plain  building  in  a  private  street,  whose  two 
rows  of  brick  were  shaded  and  agreeably  contrasted 
by  corresponding  rows  of  tall  trees.     The  house  con- 
Biste  1  of  two  apartments  on  the  first  floor,  divided 
by  folding  doors,  and  flanked  by  a  narrow  hall  from 
which  the  stairs  led  to  two  apartments  of  similar 
proportions   on  the   second  floor,  serving  as  bed- 
rooms for  the  sisterp,  while  those  below  constituted 
their  parlor  and  dining-room.     On  tbe  attic  story 
were  two  small  rooms,  one  of  which  was  Letty's 
obamber,  to  be  henceforward  shared  by  Winny.    The 
other  was  used  as  a  kind  of  store-room.    The  kitchen 
was,  of  course,  under  ground,  approached  by  an  area 
from  without.     Everything  wiihin  and  around  the 
house  was,  as  may  be  imagined,  scrupulously  neat, 
and,  to  do  Letiy  justice,  she  was  herself  the  picture 
•f  oleanKnesa,  and  the    most  active  of  servants, 


althc 
(Lor 
Win 
niigl 
she  ' 
girl 

"] 
aftei 
Cou: 
vey6 
lianc 
mus 
rath 

«] 
mac 
read 
nev< 
my 
not. 

u 

Leti 

girl; 

(( 

pris 
« 

and 
the 
ful-: 
goii 
and 


;  OR, 

ring  you  more  before 

lonable  at  the  momeiit. 
linJ  fi  ■ira  dwelling  on 
3  now   witnessed  yfixh 
r  intent  on  showing  his 
i  at  the  hottom  of  the 
I  off,  -when  having  ex- 
Winny,  she  hastily  ap- 
ftcr  "  poor  baby,"  me- 
derfnl  goodness  of  God 
ve  and  serve  Him,  • 
)  Misses  Coulter  was  a 
vate  street,  whose  two 
id  agreeably  contrasted 

trees.    The  house  con- 

the  first  floor,  divided 
[  by  a  narrow  hall  from 
>  apartments  of  similar 

floor,  serving  as  bed- 
hose  below  constituted 
1.     On  the  attic  story 

of  which  was  Letty's 
shared  by  Winn y.  The 
ore-room.  The  kitchen 
,  approached  by  an  area 
within  and  around  the 
ined,  scrupulously  neat, 

was  herself  the  picture 
)st  active  of  servants, 


EMIGRANT  MFK  IN  THE  ?.'KW  WOm,D. 


18T 


ilthongh  the  dumpiest  of  all  little  dumpy  \\  omen, 
(Lord  Byron's  special  abomination.)  Fortunately  for 
Winny,  this  little  bustling  personage — whose  age 
might  bo  about  t '  irty  or  so — was  as  good  natured  as 
6he  was  aolive,  and  it  pleased  her  mightily  to  have  a 
girl  of  Winny's  appearance  for  a  con  panion. 

"I  guess  you'll  find  it  rather  dull  here,"  said  she, 
after  receiving  Winny  from  the  hands  of  Miss 
Coulter  at  the  head  of  the  lirs,  whence  she  con- 
veyed her  to  a  seat  near  the  stove,  and  with  her  own 
hands  took  off  her  bonnet,  remarking  that  her  fingers 
must  be  "  kind  of  numb" — "  I  guess  you'll  find  it 
rather  dull. ' 

'  I  guess  I  won't,"  said  Winny,  good-humoredly, 
much  pleased  with  her  companion's  manner,  and 
readily  falling  in  with  her  peculiar  humor, — "I'll 
never  fault  a  place  for  being  quiet,  and  I've  made  up 
my  mind  to  be  happy  here  whether  you  like  it  or 
not." 

"  Well !  now,  if  that  an't  real  good  of  you  1"  said 
Letty ;  "  Miss  Debby  told  me  you  was  a  very  good 
girl,  and  I  do  think  you  are.     How's  your  brother  ?" 

"  Very  well,  thank  you,"  said  Winny,  in  some  sur- 
prise ;  "  but  how  did  you  know  I  had  a  brother?" 

"  O  la  me !  didn't  the  ladies  tell  me  all  .ibout  him 
and  you.  Bless  you !  I  knc  w  all  about  the  fire,  and 
the  fever,  and  how  Mrs,  Coulter  was  kinder  ungrate- 
ful-like, and  how  Mr,  Coulter  and  the  ladies  are  a- 
going  to  send  you  two  away  out  West  to  a  farnt, 
and  how  you're  to  stay  here  with  us  till  your  brothor 


188 


CON  o'rkgan  ;  OR, 


sendfl  for  you !— why,  child,  I  know  it  all !'  conclud- 
ed  Letty,  almost  breathless  after  her  rapid  summary 
of  the  ORegan  affairs. 

"  I  see  you  do,  indeed,"  said  Winny,  laughing; 
"and  now  that  you  know  all  about  me  so  well,  will 
you  let  me  ask  j/ou  one  question  ?" 

"  Why,  yes— a  thousand,  if  you  like." 

"  Only  one,  Letty  !— wero  you  born  here  or  io 
Ireland  ?" 

"  My  stars  I — born  in  Ireland — why,  how  did  yon 
come  to  think  of  that  ?  I  was  not  born  ten  miles 
from  this  here  city." 

"  "Why,  Miss  Coulter  told  me  you  were  Irish." 

"Ohl  she  just  said  that  because  father  and  mo- 
ther came  from  there.  But  then  they  both  died 
when  I  was  a  youngster — seven  or  eight  years  old, 
or  thereabouts,  and  I  was  raised  by  a  lady  out  there 
where  father  and  mother  died." 

Winny's  countenance  fell.  "Then  you're  not  a 
Catholic !"  said  she;  "indeed,  Miss  Coulter  told  me 
you  were  not  1" 

"  Me  a  Catholic— a  Romanist !"  said  Letty,  dis- 
tending her  round  blue  eyes  to  their  widest  dimen- 
sions, as  she  fixed  them  on  Winny ;  "  why,  no  !—l 
a'nt  any  such  a  thing.  Missis  was  a  Baptist,  but  I 
never  felt  any  pertiklar  call  to  that  'ere  religion,  so  I 
never  did  join  any  church,  because  missis  said,  says 
she,  •  you'll  be  sure  to  join  us  some  day  soon,  so  mind 
you  don't  join  any  other  church— if  you  do,'  says 
Bhe,  'I'll  never  forgive  you — never.'    So,  you  see,  it 


r 


I  koow  it  all !'  conclud- 
after  her  rapid  Bummarj 

said  Winny,  laughing; 
ill  about  »;«  bo  well,  will 
lion  ?" 

if  you  like." 
•0  you  born  here  or  in 

land — why,  how  did  you 
was  not  born  ten  miles 

me  you  were  Irish." 
because  father  and  mo- 
ut  then  they  both  died 
even  or  eight  years  old, 
lised  by  a  lady  out  there 
ed." 

"  Then  you're  not  a 
id,  Miss  Coulter  told  me 

lanist !"  said  Letty,  dis- 
s  to  their  widest  dimen- 
I  Winny;  "why,  no!— I 
ssis  was  a  Baptist,  but  I 
to  that  'ere  religion,  so  I 
because  missis  said,  says 
;  some  day  soon,  so  mind 
hurch — if  you  do,'  says 
-never.'    So,  you  see,  it 


^^.^s^fmmk^mm^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


4rj 


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EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THS  NEW  WORLD. 


18S 


was  all  the  same  to  me  to  join  or  not,  because  why, 
I  don't  think  it  makes  much  difference  what  religion 
any  one  belongs  to,  if  they'll  only  do  what's  right, 
and  then  missis  was  so  kind  and  so  motherly-like 
that  I  wouldn't  go  for  to  break  her  heart  by  joining 
any  other  church,  and  as  for  your  church,  Winny, 
why !  bless  you  I  missis  wouldn't  go  within  a  mile 
of  a  Papist  meeting-house  if  she  could  avoid  it." 

"  I  suppose,  then,  your  father  and  mother  were 
Protestants  f" 

"  Well,  I  rather  think  not,"  said  Letty,  in  a  care- 
less tone  ;  "  some  folks  say  they  were  Catholics, 
but  for  my  part  I  don't  know,  and  suppose  they 
were,"  she  added,  apologetically,  "  why  that  couldn't 
be  helped-^they  came  from  Ireland,  as  missis  used 
to  say,  and  I  guess  most  of  the  folks  there  are  of  that 
persuasion — a'nt  they  ?" 

"  A  good  many  of  them,"  said  Winny,  "  not  all, 
though.  But  you  don't  seem  to  care  much  about 
your  parents,  Letty." 

"  Oh,  well !  I  hadn't  ought  to,  I  wa'nt  brought  up 
with  tliCiii,  you  know.  But  don't  you  feel  like  eating 
Bomet'iing  ?  Dinner  won't  be  ready  for  near  an 
hour," 

"  Winny  thanked  her  and  said  she  did  not  feel 
hungry,  but  would  like  to  get  something  to  do. 

"  All  right,  Winny,"  said  her  new  friend ;  "  I  al- 
ways like  to  see  folks  fond  of  doing  something.  I 
guess  you're  none  of  the  lazy  ones.  V\\  just  go  up 
aa  Boon  as  I  baste  this  here  mutton,"  opening  th« 


190 


CON   o'rEGAN  ;  OR, 


oven-door  as  she  spoke,  "  and  ask  Miss  Coulter  fo* 
some  work  for  you." 

"  Oh !  never  mind  the  basting,"  said  Winny,  tuck- 
ing up  her  sleeves,  "leave  it  to  me,  and  go  up  at 
once,  like  a  good  girl !" 

Letty  went  accordingly,  and  speedily  returned 
■with  a  neatly-folded  parcel  of  white  cotton  in  one 
hand  and  a  small  work-basket  in  the  other.  "  Miss 
Coulter  sends  you  this,  Winny,"  said  she,  "  and  sho 
says  only  you're  a  stranger  yet,  and  must  needs  bo 
lonesome-like  for  a  day  or  two,  she  wouldn't  have 
you  work  in  the  kitchen.  It's  up  stairs  in  Miss 
Debby's  room  you're  to  work  afcer  you  get  settled. 
But  I  guess,"  said  Letty,  lowering  her  voice  to  a 
confidential  whisper,  "  I  guess  if  they  find  that  you 
keep  the  "work  jiean,  they  won't  mind  where  it  is 
done.  Our  ladies  a'nt  very  particular  that  way. 
There  now,  take  that  little  table,  and  sit  you  down 
by  the  winder.  I  tell  you  what,  Winny,  I  guess  we 
shall  have  good  times  together,  with  nothing  on 
earth  to  trouble  us  except  our  work,  and  there  a'nt 
any  too  much  of  that  either,  if  we  only  go  right 
straight  on  with  it." 

When  Winny  took  up  her  work  at  nightfall  to 
show  it  to  the  ladies,  she  found  them  playing  chess 
at  a  small  table  drawn  up  closo  to  the  hearth.  This, 
as  Winny  afterwards  perceived,  was  th-jir  evening's 
occupation  all  the  week  round,  Sunday,  of  course, 
excepted.  The  old  ladies  were,  like  their  brother, 
not  addicted  to  any  particular  notion  of  religion : 


t1 
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■« 
T 

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O 

a 
it 


OR, 

isk  Miss  Coulter  for 

g,"  said  Winny,  tuck- 
;o  me,  and  go  up  at 

d  speedily  returned 
white  cotton  in  one 
in  the  other.  "  Miss 
"  said  she,  "  and  sho 
,  and  must  needs  be 
>,  she  wouldn't  have 
t's  up  stairs  in  Miss 
after  you  get  settled, 
sring  her  voice  to  a 
if  they  find  that  you 
n't  mind  where  it  is 
particular  that  way. 
le,  and  sit  you  down 
t,  Winny,  I  guess  we 
er,  with  nothing  on 
work,  and  there  a'nb 
if  we  only  go  right 

work  at  nightfall  to 
i  them  playing  chess 
to  the  hearth.  This, 
,  was  their  evening's 
1,  Sunday,  of  course, 
e,  like  their  brother, 
'  notion  of  religion  : 


EUIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLU. 


191 


they  read  their  Bible,  especially  on  Sabbath  even* 
ings,  and  went  twice  every  Lord's  Day  to  hear  tho 
word  according  to  the  Rev.  Bertram  Shillingworth, 
a  divine  who  was  just  then  very  popular  indeed  in 
those  parts,  for  and  because  of  his  preaching  after 
no  man's  fishion  but  out  of  the  fulness  of  his  own 
soul,  which  was,  as  he  said,  an  overflowing  cistern 
of  sweet  water  for  the  children  of  God's  covenant. 
Ue  was  what  might  be  called  an  independent 
preacher,  in  other  words  he  preached  "  on  his  own 
hook,"  if  wo  may  be  permitted  to  apply  such 
homely  phrase  to  the  dapper,  insinuating,  and  very 
polite  minister  of  Jefferson  street  Church,  thus 
designated  in  lieu  ot  any  doctrinal  appellation. 
But  as  we  have  already  hinted  with  regard  to  the 
Misses  Coulter,  what  religion  they  had  was  by 
no  means  of  an  acrimonious  or  aggressive  kind. 
Well  content  with  themselves  and  all  the  world 
("  Samuel's  wife"  hardly  excepted),  they  glided  from 
week  to  week,  from  Sabbath,  to  Sabbath,  "  along 
the  even  tenor  of  their  way,"  quite  willing  that 
every  one  should  go  to  heaven  aifler  bis  own  fashion, 
and  firmly  persuaded  that  all  mankind,  without 
exception,  were  destined  to  be  gathered,  some 
sooner,  some  later,  into  tho  garners  of  the  Lord. 
This  may  appear  something  like  Uuiversalism,  but  v 
still  the  good  ladies  never  actually  professed  that, 
or  any  other  ism,  they  were  merely  "  somewhat 
more  charitable  than  their  neighbors,"  and  thought 
it  wholly  impossible  that  a  God  of  infinite  goodnesi 


IM 


30N    O^RCOAN  ;   OR, 


sould  consign  any  of  His  oreatarea  to  an  endleia 
roand  of  torments. 

We  have  left  the  sistersj  meanwhile,  engaged  in 
the  inspection  of  Winny's  work,  the  progress  of  the 
investigation  being  duly  noted  by  divers  significant 
nods  and  gracious  smiles  directed  at  each  other. 
First,  Miss  Coulter  inspected  it  over,  then  handed 
it  to  her  sister,  who  did  likewise,  then  both  ad- 
dressed Winny,  who  stood  quietly  behind  Miss 
Coulter's  chair : 

*'  Why,  really,  Winny,  you  work  very  well — very 
well,  indeed," 

"  Small  thanks  to  me,  miss,"  said  Winny,  "  for  it's 
sewing  I  used  to  be  at  home  most  of  my  time." 

"  Well,  now,  Debby,"  said  Miss  Coulter,  address- 
ing her  sister,  "  that  is  very  fortunate,  very  fortu- 
nate indeed." 

"  As  how,  Dolly  7" 

"  Why,  don't  yon  see  ? — she  will  have  a  good 
chance  out  West  there  when  she  goes.  There  will 
be  no  lack  of  work,  you  know.  But,  Winny,  did 
you  ask  your  brother  to  oome  and  see  you  here  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  miss,  thank  you— he  said  he'd  come 
very  soon." 

"  Because  you  know  it  a'nt  here  like  Sammy's — I 
mean  my  brother's.  He  can  come  here  just  as 
often  ae  he  likes  to.    Don't  forget  that !" 

"But,  Winny,"  interposed  Miss  Debby,  "tel! 
jronr  brother  he  maatn't  begin  to  think  o(  oar 


Le 

kn 

foi 
gri 

sis 

me 

ma 

tal 
I 

goi 
no' 

a  I 

ibl 

of 

nai 

his 

"I 

be< 

wa 

yoi 

eer 

to 

"h 

tui 

kir 

fur 

on 


;  on, 

eatnres  to  an  en  diem 

neanwhile,  engaged  in 
irb,  the  progress  of  the 
d  by  divers  significant 
irecled  at  each  other. 
I  it  over,  then  handed 
kesviso,  then  both  ad- 
I  quietly  behind  MisB 

work  very  well — very 

"  said  Winny,  "  for  it's 
most  of  my  time." 
Miss  Coalter,  address- 
'  fortunate,  very  forta- 

she  will  have  a  good 
she  goes.    There  will 
ow.    But,  Winny,  did 
8  and  see  you  here  ?" 
u — he  said  he'd  come 

i  here  like  Sammy's — I 
in  come  here  just  aa 
L>rget  that !" 
d  Misa  Bebby,   "tell 
egin  to  think  o(  oar 


EUIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


193 


Letty.  "We  couldn't  get  along  withont  Letty,  you 
know !" 

Winny  could  hardly  keep  from  laughing,  and  was 
fortunately  saved  the  trying  task  of  answering  as 
gravely  as  the  injunction  was  given,  by  the  elder 
sister  exclaiming : 

"Why,  how  you  talk,  my  dear!  don't  you  re- 
member that  Sammy  told  us  the  young  man  was 
married,  so  we  needn't  be  the  least  afraid  of  him 
taking  to  Letty." 

"  Oh  dear,  yes !"  said  the  other;  "  I  had  quite  for- 
gotten. Well!  Winny,  you  may  go  down  stairs 
now,  and  you  need'nt  sew  any  more  to-night." 

Winny  made  a  hasty  retreat,  being  still  in  rather 
a  laughing  mood,  for  there  was  something  irresist- 
ibly comical  in  hearing  a  grave,  elderly  gentleman 
of  Mr.  Coulter's  position  designated  as  Sammy,  the 
name,  doubtless,  by  which  his  sisters  had  addressed 
him  in  their  childish  days.  And  so  it  was.  The 
"  Debby,"  and  "  Dolly,"  and  «  Sammy,"  which  had 
been  the  play-names  of  their  early  infancy,  sat  awk- 
wardly to  stranger  ears  on  the  worthy  trio,  the 
youngest  of  whom  had  long  since  passed  into  "  the 
sere  and  yellow  leaf"  of  life's  autumnal  season.  But 
to  themselves  there  was  nothing  strange  in  the  old 
"  household  words"  to  which  their  ears  had  been  at- 
tuned from  earliest  childhood.  Time  had  dealt 
kindly  with  all  the  three,  and  the  wrinkles  which 
farrowed  their  cheeks  had  no  corresponding  traces 
on  their  kind,  benevolent  hearts.     The  sisters,  e«- 


IM 


CON  o'kkqan  ;  OR, 


pecially,  had  lived  together  all  their  lives,  and  theii 
hearts  were  attuned  to  the  same  feelings,  their 
minds  regulated  by  the  same  principles,  if  principles 
their  simple  rules  of  action  could  be  called.     Bitter- 
ness there  was  none  in  their  composition;  a  little,  a 
very  little  acid  there  might  be,  and  that  was  reserved 
for  "Sammy's  wife,"  who  had  early  repelled  the 
kindly  advances  of  lier  sisters-in-law  because  they 
would  keep  going  to  that  Jefferson  street  Clnirch, 
that  fount  of  muddy  water,  where  the  Word  of  the 
Lord  was  wrested  even  to  the  destruction  of  those 
who  heard  it.    Other  reasons  for  Mrs.  Conltcr'a 
coolness  were  whispered  about  amongst  her  intimate 
friends,  but  fortunately  for  the  peace  of  mind  of  the 
worthy  sisters  they  rarely  or  never  saw  any  of  that 
particular  set,  and  consequently  never  heard  the 
private  and  more  secret  sentiments  wherewith  their 
saintly  relative  regarded  them.    Their  nieces  they 
sometimes  saw,  as  they  occasionally  accompanied 
their  father  in  his  visits,  and  latterly  they  had  begun 
to  call  once  in  a  while  without  him,  on  their  return 
from  school  or  the  like.     Rachel  was  the  favorite 
with  both  her  aunts,  principally  because  she  "be- 
longed to  their  side  of  the  house,"  while  Hannah 
resembled  her  mother,  at  least  in  appearance.     Still 
the  good  ladies  dispensed  their  favors  with  laudable 
impartiality,  so  that  even  Hannah  herself  never  sus- 
pected their  greater  predilection  for  Rachel. 

After  chatting  an  hour  or  so  with  Letty  while  the 
latter  *' cleaned  bar  silver"  for  the  following  day, 


W 

my 
be 

rei 

m( 
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th( 
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wi 

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m 

go 

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loo 

ina 

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ref 

an 


OR, 

1  their  livcB,  and  theii 
same   feelings,  their 
principles,  if  pi  inciplcB 
uld  be  called.    Bitter- 
lomposition;  a  little,  a 
and  that  was  reserved 
ad  early  repelled  the 
■8-in-law  because  they 
ifferson  street  Chnrch, 
here  the  Word  of  the 
e  destruction  of  those 
ns  for   Mrs.  Coultcr'a 
t  amongst  her  intimate 
»e  peace  of  mind  of  the 
never  saw  any  of  that 
mtly  never  heard  the 
ments  wherewith  their 
m.    Their -nieces  they 
lasionally  accorapanied 
latterly  they  had  begun 
at  him,  on  their  return 
lachel  was  the  favorite 
•ally  because  she  "be- 
house,"  while  Hannah 
St  in  appearance.     Still 
iir  favors  with  laudable 
.nnah  herself  never  bus- 
tion  for  Rachel, 
90  with  Letty  while  the 
for  the  following  day, 


IMIGRAIT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD 


195 


Winny  took  out  her  beads,  remarking  that  as  it 
must  be  pretty  cold  up  in  the  attics,  she  would  say 
her  prayers  before  they  went  up. 

"  Be  quick,  then,"  said  Letty,  "  for  I'll  be  soon 
ready  to  go  to  bed." 

Wi«iny  knelt  at  a  chair  near  the  stove  and  com- 
menced saying  her  night-prayers,  of  which  the 
Rosary  always  formed  a  part,  very  soon  forgetting 
the  presence  of  Letty  and  her  injunction  to  use  dis- 
patch, as  she  fixed  her  thoughts  successively  on  the 
five  joyful  mysteries,  and  raised  her  heart  to  God 
with  simple,  earnest  love. 

Meanwhile  Letty,  having  finished  her  work,  took 
her  station  in  front  of  the  stove,  with  her  feet  rest- 
ing on  the  pan,  in  order  to  prepare  for  bed  by  a 
good  warming  of  her  body  from  head  to  heel. 
Luxuriating  in  the  grateful  warmth,  a  soothing  calm 
stole  over  her  senses,  and  Letty,  too,  was  soon  lost 
in  the  tranquil  embrace  of  the  drowsy  god.  Winny 
knelt  and  prayed,  but  no  sound  came  from  her  lips, 
Letty  slumbered  on  her  chair,  and  the  venerable 
Grimalkin  of  the  household  napped  cozily  at  her 
Bide  on  the  floor.  But  Letty's  slnmhers  were  not 
unbroken,  for  ei'erand  anon  she  would  start  and 
look  around,  then  rub  her  eyes*  as  though  endeavor- 
ing to  recover  the  use  of  her  suspended  faculties, 
then  glance  at  the  silent,  motionless  fif;ure  of  her 
companion,  and  muttering  some  brief  ejaculation  of 
reproof,  she  would  drop  gently  again,  and  without 
an  effort,  into  the  world  of  dreams.     At  last  Mrs, 


IM 


CON  o'rf.can  ;  OR, 


Puss,  probably  hearing  a  monse  stirring  Bomewhere 
near,  made  a  bound  in  the  direction  of  the  noise, 
and  even  her  light  weight,  coming  pounce  on  the 
floor,  was  sufBclent  to  disturb  Letty,  who,  starting 
to  her  feet,  cast  a  searching,  bewildered  glance 
around,  then  her  eyes  fell  on  Winny,  and  the  meii- 
Bure  of  her  patience  was  exhausted. 

"  Why,  Lord's  sake,  "Wlnny !  are  you  a-going  to 
pray  all  night  ? — if  you  are,  just  say  so,  will  you  ? 
and  I'll  go  to  bed.  There  a'nt  any  use  in  me  wait- 
ing hero  like  this  ?" 

Winny  had  just  finished  her  prayers,  so  she  calmly 
blessed  herself  and  arose  to  her  feet,  saying,  with  a 
smile :  "  I  wasn't  very  long,  was  I  ?" 

"Long!  why  I  kinder  thought  you'd  never  be 
done.  I'm  tired  to  death  waiting,  and  can  hardly 
keep  my  eyes  open."  Of  course  she  hadn't  tried, 
but  she  didn't  mind  saying  so.  "  What  on  earth 
have  you  got  to  say  when  you  kneel  so  that  keeps 
yon  such  a  mortal  long  time  ?" 

"  Oh !  I  have  many  things  to  say,  Letty,  that  it 
wouldn't  answer  me  to  leave  unsaid.  I  have  to  pray 
for  myself  and  all  belongin'  to  me,  both  living  and 
dead." 

A  good-humored  laugh  was  Letty's  response,  as 
she  took  np  the  lamp  and  examined  the  fastenings 
of  door  and  window.  "  Living  and  dead  !"  she  re- 
peated ;  "  well !  if  that  a'nt  a  good  one ! — why,  now, 
Winny,  can't  you  let  the  living  pray  for  themselves, 
they  oan  do  it  as  well  as  you,  if  they  want  to,  and 


u 

Wi 

w 

I 

AVI 

an 
ha 
an 

th 
he 

BC 

m 

Bt 
BU 

in 
re 
bt 

tr 

"I 
b< 
so 

th 
w 

BU 

ai 
la 


OR, 

se  stirring  Bomewhere 
ireclion  of  the  noise, 
imiug  pounce  on  the 
>  Letty,  who,  starting 
g,  bewildered  glance 
Winny,  and  the  men- 
isted. 

r!  are  you  a-going  to 
juBt  say  Bo,  will  you  ? 
t  any  a«e  in  me  wait- 

■  prayers,  so  she  calmly 
ler  feet,  saying,  with  a 
'as  I?" 

>ught  you'd  never  be 
aiting,  and  can  hardly 
urse  she  hadn't  tried, 
so.    "  What  on  earth 

ou  kneel  so  that  keeps 

I) 

to  say,  Letty,  that  it 
unsaid.  I  have  to  pray 
to  me,  both  living  and 

19  Letty's  response,  as 
amined  the  fastenings 
ng  and  dead !"  she  re- 
good  one ! — why,  now, 
ag  pray  for  themselves, 
I,  if  they  want  to,  and 


KMIORANT  UFB  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


191 


u  for  the  dead,  why,  it's  all  up  with  them.  It's  only 
wasting  your  breath  praying  for  them.  I  tell  you 
what  now,  Winny,  you're  a  real  sensible  girl,  and 
I  kind  of  like  you,  but  mind  and  don't  keep  me 
wailing  another  night  while  you  pray  for  the  living 
and  the  dead  !  Don't  now,  Winny,  or  you  and  I'll 
have  a  tiff  about  it.  I  a'nt  a-going  to  put  up  with 
any  such  nonsense." 

Winny  promised  to  say  her  prayers  up  stairs  for 
the  future,  so  as  not  to  keep  Letty  waiting.  Her 
heart  ached  for  the  heathen  darkness  which  ob- 
scured that  naturally  good  understanding,  and  she 
murmured  within  herself  as  they  ascended  the 
stairs  together :  "  Isn't  it  a  thousand  pities  to  see 
such  a  good-natured,  open-hearted  creature  so  blind 
in  regard  to  religion  I — and  to  think  that  her  pa- 
rents were  both  Catholics — my !  my !  isn't  it  too 
bad  ? — may  the  Lord  open  her  eyes  to  the  light  of 
truth." 

After  muttering  half  aloud  a  drowsy  prayer  to  be 
•'  strengthened  in  grace,"  &c.,  Letty  hastily  doffed 
her  garments  and  tumbled  into  bed,  Winny  very 
soon  following  her  example. 

On  the  following  morning,  soon  afler  breakfast, 
there  came  a  gentle,  hesitating  ring  to  the  door, 
whereupon  Letty  exclaimed  :  "  That's  Peggy — I'm 
sure  it  is  ! — she  ought  to  have  been  here  yesterday  1 
Will  you  just  step  up  and  open  the  door,  Winny, 
and  bring  Peggy  down  here  till  I  go  up  and  tell  th« 
ladies,  after  I  get  through  with  these  dishes  ?" 


198 


CON  o'reoas  ;  OR, 


Winny  hastened  to  the  door,  wondering  who 
Peggy  might  be,  and  was  rather  surprised  to  see  a 
pretty,  youthful-looking  girl  led  by  a  little  boy. 
This  circumstance  revealed  all  too  clearly  that  the 
light  of  heaven  shining  so  brightly  at  the  moment 
was  unseen  by  the  dark,  lustrous  eyes  which  moved 
BO  restlessly  in  their  sockets,  as  though  the  girl 
would  seek  to  penetrate  the  gloom  in  which  she  was 
shrouded. 

"  Are  the  ladies  at  home,  Letty  ?"  said  the  blind 
girl,  softly. 

Winny  replied  in  the  affirmative,  but  her  voice 
was  strange  to  Peggy,  who  started  and  anged 
color. 

"  Is  Letty  gone?"  was  the  next  question,  as  Peggy 
entered  the  hall  with  the  assistance  of  "Winny  and 
her  young  guide. 

"  Oh,  no !"  s?id  Wiany,  very  gently,  "  yon'll  find 
her  in  the  kitchen  below.  I'm  only  here  sewing 
for  a  start.  Just  give  me  your  hand,  dear,  till  I 
take  you  down  stairs." 

"Ah !  Qod  bless  you,  ma  colleen  baton  T*  said  Peg- 
gy, warmly  squeezing  the  hand  that  held  hers. 

Winny  laughed  pleasantly ;  "  why,  how  do  you 
know  I'm  a  colleen  baumT^  she  asked. 

"  Oh  I  I  know  it  by  your  voice,  alanna  !  an'  your 
soft  kindly  hand.  Your  voice  is  very  sweet,  an'  it 
goes  down  into  my  heart.  It  puts  me  in  mind  of 
the  purty  blackbirds  and  thrushes  that  used  to  sing 
In  the  trees  and  bushes  in  a  place  we'll  never  see 


II 

g 
b( 

el 
fc 

hi 

ai 

tl 
fi 

ei 
k 
o; 

8'' 

k 


1 

g 


;  OR, 

3oor,  wondering  who 
:her  Burprifted  to  see  a 
led  by  a  little  boy. 
ill  too  clearly  that  the 
'ightly  at  the  moment 
ous  eyes  which  moved 
B,  as  though  the  girl 
loom  in  which  she  was 

jetty  ?"  said  the  blind 

matlve,  but  her  voice 
started  and       anged 

ext  question,  as  Peggy 
istanoe  of  Winny  and 

7  gently,  "  you'll  find 
I'm  only  here  sewing 
oar  band,  dear,  till  I 

Ileen  baton .'"  said  Peg- 

d  that  held  here. 

;  "why,  how  do  you 

I  asked. 

aice,  aJanna !  an'  your 

le  is  very  sweet,  an'  it 

puts  me  in  mind  of 
shes  that  nsed  to  sing 

place  we'll  never  see 


EMIGRANT  LIFB  IN  THK  NEW  WORLD. 


199 


igain !    See !"  she  repeated  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh 
— "  how  could  we — at  least  some  of  us,  when  the 
light  is  gone  from  us  forever  ?" 

They  had  now  reached  the  kitchen,  where  Letty 
gave  a  cordial  reception  to  the  blind  girl,  and  seated 
her  near  the  stove. 

'•  What  on  earth  kept  you  away  yesterday  ?"  said 
she ;  "  the  ladies  were  real  anxious  about  you,  for 
fear  something  had  happened." 

"Well!  nothing  at  all  had  happened,  you  see,' 
said  Peggy,  with  a  smile,  *'  but  I  hadn't  all  the  socks 
done,  an'  I  thought  there  was  no  use  oomin'  till  I'd 
have  them  all." 

"No  more  there  wasn't.  But  how's  all  at  home, 
and  how's  Tom?" 

There  was  a  blunt  archness  in  tue  latter  part  of 
the  question,  which  did  not  escape  Winny,  and  she 
fixed  her  eyes  on  Peggy's  face  in  order  to  note  the 
effect,  but  Peggy's  face  was  a  book  which  it  required 
long  practice  to  readj  so  that  Winny  made  nothing 
of  her  scrutiny  further  than  what  Peggy's  brief  an- 
swer conveyed. 

"  He's  well,  an*  so  are  all  our  people.  Thank  yoa 
kindly  for  askin'.  Can  I  speak  to  either  of  the 
ladies,  Letty?  Pm  in  a  hurry  this  momin',  for 
Anty's  goin'  out  after  I  g:et  back." 

"  Come  along,  then,  and  I'U  bring  yon  np  to  them. 
They're  in  the  dining-room. 

«  Stay  there,  Johnny,"  said  Peggy  to  her  young 
guide.  "  an'  we'll  call  you  up  when  I'm  ready  to  go. 


soo 


co.y  o'kman  ;  oh, 


Where  are  yoa,  Winny?"  she  had  heard  Letty 
mention  Winny's  name,  which  her  quick  ear  was  not 
slow  in  taking  up,  "  God  be  with  you,  askrre  /—my 
heart  warms  to  you ! — indeed  it  does !" 

"  And  mine  to  you,  Peggy  I"  was  the  fervent  an- 
swer, and  as  Winny  grasped  the  hand  of  her  new 
friend  the  tears  trickled  from  her  eyes. 

Entering  into  conversation  with  the  little  boy, 
Winny  found  that  Peggy  was  his  aunt,  but  further 
Information  she  did  not  ask  from  him.  The  boy 
was  shy,  too,  and  by  no  means  communicative,  and 
notwithstanding  Winny's  efforts  to  draw  him  out,  he 
Blill  kept  eyeing  her  askance,  and  could  hardly  be 
got  to  answer  a  question.  At  the  sound  of  Letty's 
voice  calling  him,  he  scampered  up  stairs  with  right 
good  will,  and  laid  hold  of  his  aunt's  hand  with  re- 
newed cheerfulness  and  activity. 

When  they  were  gone  Letty  returned  to  the 
kitchen  and  her  unfinished  task  of  putting  away  the 
breakfast  things.  Winny  continued  her  wurk  in  si- 
lence, thinking  the  while  of  the  strangely-interesting 
blind  girl,  and  wishing  to  know  something  more 
about  her,  yet  unwilling  to  question  Letty  on  the 
subject.  But  Letty,  judging  others  by  herself,  said 
abruptly : 

*'  Now,  I  guess  you  wart  to  know  all  about  that 
'ere  girl,  don't  you  ?"  Winny  started  and  blushed 
■lightly,  "There,  I  knew  it— there  a'nt  any  use 
denying  it,  so  I'll  tell  you.    She's  a  girl  of  the  name 


OR, 

he  had  heard  Letty 
her  quick  ear  was  not 
ith  you,  astore  ! — my 
it  does  1" 

"  was  the  fervent  an- 
Lhe  hand  of  her  new 
ler  eyes. 

with  the  little  boy, 
his  aunt,  but  further 
from  him.  The  boy 
B  communicative,  and 
ts  to  draw  him  out,  he 
and  could  hardly  be 
the  sound  of  Letty*s 
d  up  stairs  with  right 
i  aunt's  hand  with  re- 

stty  returned  to  the 
k  of  patting  away  the 
binued  her  wurk  in  si- 
)  strangely-interesting 
aow  something  more 
[uestion  Letty  on  the 
others  by  herself,  said 

0  know  all  about  that 
y  started  and  blushed 
; — there  a'nt  any  use 
le's  a  girl  of  the  name 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THK  NEW  WORLD. 


aoi 


of  Peggy  Daly,  and  she  lives  with  a  sister  of  hers,  a 
Mrs.  Brady." 

"  What  I  the  wife  of  one  Barney  Brady  down  in 
Hope  street,  below  ?" 

"  Yes !  that's  the  man,  and  so  Peggy  lives  with 
them,  ever  since  she  lost  her  eyesight  by  the  means 
of  a  bad  cold  she  got  not  long  after  she  came  to 
this  here  place.  She's  a  famous  knitter,  is  Peggy, 
and  our  ladies  found  her  out  somehow  and  took 
quite  a  liking  to  her.  They  keep  her  in  work  most 
of  the  time,  for  when  they  have  none  themselves 
they  ask  it  from  their  friends,  and  so  Peggy  always 
earns  a  little  that  makes  her  kind  of  independent. 
To  my  sartin  kno  ledge  she  might  have  a  home 
here  all  her  life,  but  somehow  she'd  rather  stay  at 
her  sister's.  I  tell  you  hat,"  said  Letty,  drawing 
near  Winny  and  letting  her  voice  fall  almost  to  a 
whisper,  "  I  guess  she  has  some  very  pertiklar  rea- 
Rons  for  staying  there  sooner  than  anywhere  else — 
howsomever,  that's  a  secret,  and  I  don't  want  to 
pry  into  folk's  private  business." 

If  Winny  had  been  able  to  look  into  Letty's  heart 
at  that  moment,  she  would  have  said  "  sour  grapes, 
Le4ty !"  but  as  it  was,  she  only  said  "  nor  I  neither, 
Letty  !"  and  so  the  conversation  dropped. 


308 


CON  o'reoan  ;  OS, 


Ion] 
me( 

in  '. 
cou 


CHAPTER  XII. 

About  a  week  after  Winny  had  taken  up  her  abode 
in  the  bouse  of  the  MUsea  Coulter,  Paul  Bergen 
aaked  his  wife  when  he  was  about  to  return  to  his 
work  after  dinner,  whether  she  had  a  quarter-dollar. 

"  Well!  I  have,"  said  Nora,  with  some  hesitation, 
♦'  but  Vm  afeard  I'll  hardly  have  enough  to  do  us  till 
Saturday  night,  so,  unless  you're  badly  in  want  of  it, 
Paul,  I'd  rather  not  give  it." 

"  Oh  come,  Nora  I"  said  her  husband,  "  hand  it 
over  here.  There's  a  letter  in  the  office  for  me  with 
a  quarter-dollar  postage." 

"  A  letter !  my  goodness,  Paul !  why  didn't  you 
tell  me  that  at  oust  ? — where  can  it  be  from  f" 

«« From !  why  from  Ireland,  where  else  f — stir 
yourself,  Nora,  and  get  me  the  money,  an'  I'll  call  at 
the  office  now  before  I  go  back.  It  isn't  one  yet.  I'll 
have  it  with  me  when  I  come  home  in  the  evenin'." 

"  Well !  be  sure  an'  come  early,  Paul,  for  I'll  be 
on  pins  and  Aeedles  till  I  hear  what's  in  the  letter, 
an'  who  it's  from." 

So  Paul  got  the  needful  and  went  his  ways.  Nora 
went  about  the  house  all  the  long  afternoon,  and  bow 


so  ( 

No 

the 

rao 

on 

the 

By 

obi 
an( 
mil 
Hte 
oa< 
om 
hei 
al 
tei 
set 
Pa 
sn 


;  *■. 


KMIORANV  UrK  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


203 


XII. 

lad  taken  up  her  abode 
Coulter,  Paul  Bergen 
Eibout  to  return  to  his 
le  had  a  quarter-dollar. 
,  with  some  hesitation, 
,ve  enough  to  do  us  till 
I'ro  badly  in  want  of  it, 

er  husband,  "hand  it 
a  the  office  for  me  with 

Paul!  why  didn't  you 
can  it  be  from  ?" 
od,  where  else  P — stir 
le  money,  an'  I'll  call  at 
k.  It  isn't  on«  yet.  Til 
B  home  in  the  evenin'." 
early,  Paul,  for  I'll  be 
ar  what's  in  the  letter, 

1  went  his  ways.  Nora 
jng  aflernooD,  and  bow 


long  it  did  seem !— going  through  her  work  with 
mechanical  precision,  but  thinking  ever  on  the  letter 
in  Paul's  pocket,  and  wondering  where  on  earth  it 
could  be  from. 

"  With  what  a  leaden  and  retarding  weigbt 
Does  expectation  !oad  tbe  wings  of  lime !" 
80  every  hour  seemed  the  length  of  a  day  to  poor 
Nora.     When  the  children  came  home  from  school 
there  was  a  sort  of  temporary  diversion,  for  their 
mother  had  then  somebody  to  whom  she  could  talk 
on  the  engrossing  subject,  and  their  anxiety,  or  ra- 
ther curiosity,  was  as  strongly  excited  as  her  own. 
By  this  time  evening  came  on,  and  the  six  o'clock 
chime  rang  merrily  out  from  the  thousand  factories 
and  work-yards  of  the  great  city,  and  then  every 
minute  seemed  an  hour.     The  children  ran  up  the 
steps,  now  one,  now  another,  anxiously  "looking 
oat  for  father,"  and  Nora  herself  had  been  more  than 
once  to  the  door  before  the  well-known  step  was 
heard  without.    Patsey  and  Jim  ran  to  catch  each 
a  hand  of  their  father,  and  thus  conducted  he  en- 
tered  the  cellar.    Nora  looked  at  him  with  an  eager, 
searching  glance,  but  Paul  only  laughed,  and  told 
Patsey  to  go  off  for  Andy  Dwyer.    «  He'll  be  at  his 
supper  now  likely,  but  tell  him  to  come  as  soon  as 
ever  he's  done.    Well,  Nora!"  he  added,  gaily, 
"  have  you  my  supper  ready  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,  Paul,  it's  just  ready,"  and  laying  tho 
baby  on  Jane's  knee,  she  proceeded  to  place  it  on 
the  table ;  "  but  what  about  the  letter?'* 


204 


OOH   O'REOAN  ;   OR, 


««The  letter,"  said  Paul,  with  affected  forgetfal 
neBB ;  "  oh !  to  be  sure  !  I  was  forgettin'  all  about  it. 
Now  who  do  you  think  it's  from,  of  all  people  in  the 
■world  ?" 

Nora  guessed  and  guessed,  but  Paul  still  laughed 
and  shook  his  head :  "  You're  out  again,  Nora.  I 
see  you're  a  poor  hand  at  guessin',  so  I'll  not  keep 
you  any  longer  in  Buspense.  Do  you  mind  my 
brother  Felix  that  came  out  here  lo  America  three 
or  four  years  afore  we  were  married?" 

"  Lord  bless  mo !  to  be  sure  I  do!"  cried  Nora,  all 
over  in  a  tremble,  as  she  afterwards  said,  "what 
about  him,  Paul  ? ' 

"  Why,  nothing  in  the  world  only  that  thb  letter 
in  my  hand  is  from  him." 

"  An'  where  on  earth  is  he  ? — many  an'  many's  the 
day  we  watched  for  some  account  of  him,  I'm  sure, 
an'  when  times  ware  worst  with  us  too.  Myself  was 
often  an'  often  thinkin'  that  he'd  turn  up  some  day 
an'  give  us  a  lift.    An'  so  he's  alive  an'  well,  you 

say?" 

"I  didn't  say  a  word  of  the  kind,"  said  Paul, 
laughing,  "  but  it's  true  enough  for  all  that." 

"  An'  where  is  he,  at  all,  that  we  could  never  make 
him  out  ?  Sure  yourself  was  afeard  that  he  wasn't 
above  ground  this  many  a  year !" 

"  He  is,  then,  above  ground,  thanks  be  to  God !  an' 
where  do  you  think  he  is?" 

"  Oh !  you  know  there's  no  use  in  me  tryin'  U> 
guess." 


0 

b( 

w 

tl 

Ci 

n 
I 

h 

ti 
h 

P 
o 

h 

a 

h 

k 

t' 
a 
a 
I 

8 
(I 

B 
t 
1 

] 


)R, 

h  affected  forgetfal^ 
>rgettiD'  all  about  it. 
I,  of  all  people  in  the 

at  Paul  Btill  laughed 
out  again,  Nora.  I 
sin',  so  I'll  not  keep 
Do  you  mind  my 
ire  xo  America  three 
rried?" 

:  do!"  cried  Nora,  all 
srwarda  aaid,  "  what 

only  that  this  letter 

-many  an'  many's  tho 
mt  of  him,  I'm  sure, 
US  too.  Myself  was 
'd  turn  up  some  day 
8  alive  an'  well,  yon 

le  kind,"  said  Paul, 
for  all  that." 
we  could  never  make 
ifeard  that  he  wasn't 
!" 
hanks  be  to  God !  an' 

use  in  me  tryin'  W 


EMIORANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WOBLD. 


205 


"Well!    he's  out    in  the  very  place  that  Con 
O'Regan  is  goin'  to." 

"  Why,  then ,  Paul !  is  it  in  earnest  you  are  ?    Don't 
be  Bchemin'  on  us  now  1" 

"  It's  truth  I  tell  you,  Nora,  an'  you'll  see  it  is 
when  you  hear  the  letter.  He  was  workin'  here  axJ 
there  in  different  places  for  five  or  six  years  after  he 
came  out,  an'  by  the  same  token,  he  wrote  a  good 
many  letters,  but  you  see  we  never  got  them  because 
I  was  out  here  an'  he  didn't  know  it,  an'  kept  writin' 
home  for  a  couple  of  years,  an'  could  get  no  answer, 
till  he  began  to  give  us  all  up  for  dead.  Well !  at 
last  he  went  to  St.  Louis,  a  great  city  out  in  them 
parts,  an'  worked  there  a  start,  till  he  came  to  hear 
of  this  fine  new  country  where  it  was  so  easy  to  get 
land,  an'  as  soon  as  he  could  put  enough  together— 
an'  it  was  easy  for  him,  bekase  he  had  no  family  only 
himself  an'  his  wife — ^he  married  Judy  Lenihan,  you 
know,  the  summer  before  he  left  home,  an'  so  off 
they  set  for  Iowa— I  b'lieve  that's  what  they  call  it — 
an'  they  got  a  fine  farm  there  not  many  miles  from 

a  town  they  call  Du ,  Du Oh !  then,  haven'O 

I  the  bad  memory!"  Taking  out  the  letter,  he 
searched  and  searched  till  he  found  the  name — . 
"  well  I  sure  enough,  it's  a  quare  name,  too."  After 
some  spelling  he  made  out  the  word  Dubuque^ 
though  we  will  not  answer  for  the  correctness  of 
Paul's  pronunciation,  at  his  nearest  approach  to  the 
word.  However,  that  was  of  as  small  importance  in 
Paul's  estimation  as  it  was  in  that  of  his  wife,  who 


206 


COM   O^REOAN  ;   OB, 


Baid,  with  nervous  impatience:  "Oh!  then,  never 
mind  the  name — go  on  an'  tell  us  the  rest." 

"Not  a  word  more  you'll  hear  now  till  I  finish 
my  supper,  Nora,"  said  Paul,  in  his  blithesome  way. 

"Indeed,  then,  you're  light  enough,  Paul,"  said 
Nora;  " you're  not  in  a  good  way  of  talkin'  or  read- 
in'  till  you  get  your  supper.  Sit  down,  children,  an' 
fall  to,  till  we  get  these  things  out  of  the  way."  The 
children  were  quite  willing  to  obey,  and  took  their 
seats  with  commendable  alacrity.  Supper  was  more 
welcome  even  than  the  letter. 

As  for  Nora  she  could  think  or  talk  of  nothing 
else.  Her  joy  was  so  great  that  she  could  eat  little 
or  nothing,  and  her  appetite  vanished  entirely  when 
Paul  said,  with  a  knowing  smile : 

"  You're  in  great  glee  now,  Nora,  but  you'll  be  in 
greater,  by  and  by." 

«  Why,  how  is  that,  Paul  ?" 

"Ton  haven't  heard  the  best  news  yet— that's  all !" 

What  Nora  would  have  replied  in  the  pleasurable 
excitement  of  the  moment  it  is  hard  to  say,  for  her 
answer  was  prevented  by  the  entrance  of  Andy 
Dwyer,  with  a  "  God  save  all  here!" 

"  Ha !  ha !"  laughed  Paul ;  "  I  think  you're  a  bit 
of  a  prophet,  Andy.  You  talk  as  if  we  were  all 
among  ourselves  again,  with  nobody  to  make  game 
of  us  for  the  good  old  ways  an'  words  that  came 
down  to  us  from  them  that  went  afore  us." 

"Well !  I  always  speak  ho,  Paul,"  replied  Andy, 
*'  when  I  see  that  the  coast  is  clear,  and  none  of  tho 


)K, 

"Oh!  then,  never 
8  the  rest." 
ar  now  till  I  finish 
his  blithesome  way. 
enough,  Paul,"  said 
»y  of  talkin'  or  read- 
t  down,  children,  an' 
ut  of  the  way."  The 
obey,  and  took  their 
T.    Supper  was  more 

or  talk  of  nothing 
it  she  could  eat  little 
aished  entirely  when 

ora,  but  you'll  be  in 


ews  yet— that's  all !" 
ed  in  the  pleasurable 
I  hard  to  say,  for  her 
I  entrance  of  Andy 
ere!" 

'  I  think  you're  a  bit 
k  as  if  we  were  all 
body  to  make  game 
in'  words  that  came 
it  afore  us." 
Paul,"  replied  Andy, 
lear,  and  noue  of  the 


EMIGRANT  I.IFR  W  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


201 


anciroumcised  within  hearing.  God  knows."  he  add- 
ed, with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  there's  some  of  our  own  just 
as  bad  as  any  of  them  in  regard  to  making  fun  of 
old  usages  that  they  ought  to  respect.  Ah!  Paul! 
Paul !  they  live  among  the  Moabites  and  the  Am- 
monites, till  they  get  to  be  just  like  them." 

"  Who  did  you  say  they're  among  ?"  said  Paul, 
and  Nora  opened  her  eyes  wide. 

"  Oh !  I,  forgot,"  said  Andy,  with  a  grave  smile, 
"  that  you  were  not  quite  so  familiar  with  the  Scrip- 
tures as  some  people  are,"  meaning  himself,  of  course. 
So  he  went  on  with  an  air  of  grave  condescension 
to  explain  who  the  Ammonites  and  Moabites  were, 
and  the  relation  in  which  they  stood  to  the  chosen 
people.  The  analogy  was  so  plain  that  Paul  under- 
stood it  at  once  and  cheerfully  subscribed  to  its 
truth. 

"  Well !  Andy,  you'll  be  glad  to  hear  that  some 
of  us  are  in  a  fair  way  of  gettin'  our  necks  out  of 
the  halter;  there's  a  letter  I  got  the  day  from  a 
brother  of  mine  that  I  haven't  seen  or  heard  from 
this  many  a  long  year.  Just  sit  over  to  the  light 
here  au'  read  it  out,  for  Nora  hasn't  heard  it  yet." 

With  many  expressions  of  satibfaction  Andy 
opened  the  letter  and  read.  The  contents  are 
already  known  in  great  part  to  the  reader,  and  the 
concluding  paragraphs  ran  as  follows :  "  So  now  that 
I  have  told  you  all  about  my  own  affairs,  let  us  have 
a  word  or  two  about  yours.  I  suppose  you  have  a 
family  rising  up  by  this  time,  and  unless  you're  in 


208 


CON  o'keoan  ;  OR, 


some  very  good  business,  the  city  is  a  poor  enongh 
place  to  live  in.  I  know  very  ▼ell  what  it  is,  for, 
one  way  and  another,  I've  had  a  trial  of  town  as 
well  as  country.  Now  Til  tell  you  what  I  want 
you  to  do.  Write  to  me  as  soon  as  possible,  and 
let  me  know  how  you  are  situated,  and  if  yourself 
and  your  wife  would  wish  to  come  out  here.  If  yon 
are  both  willing,  I'll  go  at  once  and  buy  the  loca- 
tion-ticket of  a  farm  as  near  my  own  as  I  can  get  it, 
so  that  when  you  come  here  you'll  have  nothing  in 
the  world  to  do  but  go  to  work  at  once  and  build  a 
bouse — it  needn't  be  very  large  at  first — and  as  my 
farm  is  pretty  well  cultivated  now,  I'll  be  able,  with 
God's  help,  to  give  you  a  hand,  myself  and  some 
boys  from  our  own  place  that's  settled  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. They  all  bid  me  say  that  they'll  do  what 
they  can  to  help  you  along  and  give  you  a  start. 
Let  me  know  if  you  have  means  enough  to  bring 
your  wife  and  family  out,  and  if  not,  why  Judy  and 
me  have  something  by  us  in  hard  cash,  that  you 
can  have  the  loan  of  for  some  years  till  you're  in  n 
way  of  paying  it  back.  As  Judy  often  says  to  me  : 
There's  only  the  two  of  us  in  it  now,  and  it's  to- 
gether we  ought  to  be,  not  you  at  one  end  of  the 
world  and  me  at  the  other,  as  a  body  might  pay. 
Judy  and  me  haven't  got  any  family  of  our  own, 
and,  please  God,  we'll  help  to  do  for  yours.  Wo 
want  to  know  how  many  youngsters  you  have,  what 
age  they  are,  and  all  about  them.  If  there's  any 
from  the  old  sod  living  near  you  that  may  cbanoe 


OR, 


KMIGRANT  Lift.  IS  THK  NEW  WORIJ). 


S09 


lity  18  a  poor  enoagh 
'  irell  what  it  is,  for, 

I  a  trial  of  town  an 

II  you  what  I  want 
Boon  as  poBsible,  and 
ated,  and  if  yourself 
me  out  here.  If  you 
3e  and  buy  the  loca- 
r  own  as  I  can  get  it, 
ou'll  have  nothing  in 
£  at  once  and  build  a 
3  at  first — and  as  my 
ow,  I'll  be  able,  with 
id,  myself  and  some 

settled  in  the  neigh- 
that  they'll  do  what 
ad  give  yon  a  start, 
ins  enough  to  bring 
f  not,  why  Judy  and 
hard  cash,  that  you 
years  till  you're  in  a 
dy  often  says  to  me : 
it  now,  and  it's  to- 
lU  at  one  end  of  the 
J  a  body  might  pay. 
■  family  of  our  own, 
do  for  yours.  Wo 
[sters  you  have,  what 
lem.  If  there's  any 
you  that  may  chanoe 


to  remember  poor  Felix,  (and  a  wild  scamp  I  wsi, 
too,  God  knows  !)  give  them  my  kind  love,  and  toll 
them  the  best  I  can  wish  them  is  that  they  may  find 
their  way  out  Lere.  This  is  the  place,  Paul,  to 
make  a  good  home  I'ur  one  ^  family,  where  a  man 
can  be  his  own  master,  and  not  be  driven  about  like 
black  niggers  from  post  to  pillar,  at  the  bidding  of 
them  that  don't  care  a  traneen  for  one  of  us,  but 
would  see  us  far  enough  if  the  truth  was  known. 
And  what's  your  poor  dollar  a  day,  or  dollar  and  a 
quarter? — what  is  it,  Paul,  to  support  a  family 
where  you  have  everything  to  bay  except  the  light 
of  heaven,  that  they  can't  keep  from  you  ? — and  if 
aiokness  comes  on  yon,  or  death,  how  is  it  to  be 
then? — who's  to  do  for  the  wife  and  children? — and 
worse  than  all,  the  bad  example  that's  before  your 
eyes  and  your  children's  eyes,  turn  which  way  you 
will.  Take  my  advice,  Paul,  and  don't  stay  iu  such 
a  place,  except  you  have  a  good  way  of  doing,  as  I 
said  befiTi,.  If  you  have,  why  it  would  be  foolish 
to  give  it  up,  for  a  bird  in  the  hand,  you  know,  is 
always  worth  two  in  the  bush. 

"  At  any  rate,  write  soon,  and  let  us  know  what 
you  mean  to  do.  Judy  sends  her  kind  love  to  you 
all,  and  hopes  to  see  you  here,  young  and  old,  before 
she's  many  months  older. 

"  So  no  more  at  present,  but  remains  till  death 
your  loving  and  affectionate  brother, 

«  Fklix  Bsroim." 


810 


CON    O'KKOAN  ;    OR, 


Then  followed  directions  as  to  how  the  letter  was 
to  be  addressed. 

During  the  reading  of  this  epistle  Nora  Bergen 
Bat  with  her  clasped  hands  resting  on  her  knees 
and  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  precious  missive  which 
bore  such  cheering  words.  By  the  time  it  was 
ended,  from  date  to  subscription,  the  tears  were 
coursing  down  her  cheeks,  tears  of  joy  and 
gladness. 

"  Now,  Paul,"  said  she,  "  wasn't  it  true  for  Con 
O'Regan  that  we  don't  any  of  us  know  what  may 
be  in  store  for  us  ?— oh  1  then,  the  Lord  in  Heaven 
be  praised — haven't  we  the  great  luck  entirely  !— 
isn't  Felix  the  good  brother  all  out— an'  his  wife, 
loo,  not  a  bit  behind  himself— sure  enough,  but 
we're  in  great  luck  !" 

"  Well,  Andy  !"  said  Paul,  as  Dwyer  handed  him 
back  the  letter,  "  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

"  What  can  I  think  of  it,  Paul,  only  that  you  are 
one  of  the  luckiest  men  tbat  ever  bore  your  name  I 
Wonderful,  indeed,  are  the  ways  of  God  !"  He  was 
evidently  pleased  at  the  sudden  change  in  Paul's 
prospects,  but  still  he  could  not  help  sighing  as  he 
said  within  himself:  "There's  nobody  to  send  for 
me,  or  help  me  out  of  poverty  I — they're  low  in  the 
dust  that  would  give  me  a  helping  band.  Well !  I 
suppose  it's  all  for  the  best — it  mutt  be,  since  God 
ordains  it  so  I" 

"  Well !  well !"  said  Paul,  "  how  little  notion  I 
had  of  any  such  chance  when  I  was  tellin'  Con  the 


P) 

Pl 
be 

yc 

nc 
ev 

in 

g< 

to 


al 
N 
w 

q' 

OJ 

ci 
bi 


OR, 

bo  how  the  letter  wm 

epistle  Nora  Bergen 
estiDg  on  her  knees 
eolouB  missive  which 
By  the  time  it  was 
)tion,  the  tears  were 
tears    of   joy    and 

rasn't  it  true  for  Con 
if  us  know  what  may 
,  the  Lord  in  Heaven 
»reat  luck  entirely  ! — 
all  out— an'  his  wife, 
ilf— sure  enough,  but 

AS  Dwyer  handed  him 
I  think  of  that  ?" 
'aul,  only  that  you  are 
ever  bore  your  name ! 
lys  of  God  !"  lie  was 
Idea  change  in  Paul's 
not  help  sighing  as  he 
's  nobody  to  send  for 
y ! — they're  low  in  the 
elping  hand.  Well !  I 
-it  must  be,  since  God 

"how  little  notion  I 
i  I  was  tellin'  Con  the 


KMIORAKT  MFK  lH  THE  NEW  WORLB. 


311 


Other  day  that  I  wished  I  could  go  with  him.  Now, 
that  same  may  come  to  pa8S,  an',  indeed,  it's  little 
short  of  a  meraole.  Weill  now  what  about  wriiia' 
the  letter  ?" 

"I'll  write  it  for  yon  if  you  wish,"  said  Andy. 

"  I'm  entirely  obliged  to  you,  Andy,"  returned 
Paul,  "but  I  know  poor  Felix  would  be  better 
pleased  to  see  my  own  handwrite,  such  as  it  is.  To 
be  sure,  I  can't  either  write  or  state*  a  letter  like 
you,  but  still,  it's  to  my  brother,  you  know,  an'  he'll 
not  turn  up  his  nose  at  what  TU  write,  let  it  be 
ever  so  indifferent." 

"  Well !  I  believe  you're  right,"  naid  Andy,  ris- 
ing ;  "  a  scroll  from  your  own  pen  will  be  worth 
gold  in  his  eyes.  God  spare  you  to  each  other,  and 
to  the  two  decent  women  that  own  you !" 

"  But  sure  you're  not  goin'  yet  ?"  said  Nora ; 
"  why,  man,  we  have  ever  so  many  things  to  talk 
about." 

Just  then  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
Nora's  cordial  "come  in  I"  was  answered  by  the 
appearance  of  Con  O'Regan,  muffled  in  a  good 
warm  overcoat.  Glancing  from  one  to  the  other  he 
quickly  perceived  that  there  was  joy  in  the  house, 
of  some  kind,  and  he  was  about  to  remark  :  "  Why 
you  all  seem  very  merry  here  1"  when  he  was  anti- 
cipated by  Patsey  and  Jane,  who  cried  out  in  a 
breath : 

'  Ob,  Con !  sure  we  got  a  letter  from  my  anda 

•  Compose,  or  indite. 


218 


CON   O  REGAN  ;   OR, 


that  was  dead  this  long  timo,  an'  he  sent  for  fathet 
and  mother  an'  all  of  us  to  go  to  him.  An*  it's  the 
same  place  that  you're  goin  to." 

Con  turned  inquiringly  to  the  seniors,  and  found 
on  every  face  a  confirmation  of  "  the  wondrous  tale." 

Paul  nodded  assentingly,  and  Nora  cried  out  in 
the  excess  of  her  joy  :  "  Praises  be  to  God,  it's  all 
true  enough,  Con  I  Ask  Andy  Dwyer  ! — he  read 
the  letter!" 

"  It's  all  true,  Cornelius,"  said  Andy,  with  bis 
grave  smile,  "  except  that  Felix  Bergen  didn't  come 
to  life  again,  as  the  children  would  lead  you  to  sup- 
pose. There  wasn't  a  dead  drop  in  him  any  day 
these  fifteen  years !" 

"  Oh  1  then,  bad  cess  to  yon,  Andy,"  said  Nora, 
with  a  merry  laugh,  "  it'a  you  that's  never  without 
your  joke.  Sit  down  now,  both  of  you,  till  we  have 
our  talk  out — you'll  not  stir  a  step  this  hour,  Andy  !" 

"  Well !  if  I  must,  I  must !"  said  Andy ;  "  there's 
no  use  contesting  the  point  with  one  of  the  fair  sex. 
And  how  is  Winifred,  Cornelius  ?" 

Con  hesitated  for  a  moment.  He  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  hear  Winny'sname  given  in  full,  but  a  mo- 
ment's thought  recalled  the  fact  that  she  had  been 
BO  baptized,  and  he  hastened  to  reply  : 

"  I  haven't  seen  her  since  she  went  to  Miss  Coul- 
ter's, for  somehow  I  don't  like  to  be  troublin'  a 
strange  house  very  often.  She  was  well,  though, 
when  I  saw  her  a  week  ago.  But  I  want  to  hear  sU 
about  this  lucky  letter,  Paul  ?" 


OB, 

an'  he  senl  for  fathei 
to  him.    An'  it's  the 

le  seniors,  and  found 
"  the  wondrous  tale." 
id  Nora  cried  out  in 
es  be  to  God,  it's  all 
ly  Dwyer  ! — he  read 

said  Andy,  with  his 
E  Bergen  didn't  oome 
)u]d  lead  yon  to  Bup> 
Irop  in  him  any  day 

1,  Andy,"  said  Nora, 
that's  never  withoat 
,h  of  you,  till  we  have 
tep  this  hour,  Andy  1" 
said  Andy;  ''there's 
th  one  of  the  fair  sex. 
usf" 

.  He  was  not  accns- 
;iven  in  full,  but  a  mo- 
lot  that  she  had  been 
0  reply : 

e  went  to  Miss  Coul- 
ike  to  be  troublin'  a 
he  was  well,  though, 
But  I  want  to  hear  all 


KMtORANT  LiriC  IW  THE  N«W  WOni.D. 


Sit 


The  letter  was  read  over  again  for  Con,  to  whom 
Its  contents  were  almost  as  welcome  as  they  were 
to  Paul  and  Nora.  "Nora,"  said  he,  "  we'll  be  all 
together,  please  the  Lord,  for  I'll  not  go  till  you're 
ready,  and  glad  I  am  to  havt  to  wait  for  you." 

"  Well !  I'll  write  to  Felix,  Qod  willing,  this  very 
night,"  said  Paul,  "  before  I  lay  a  side  on  a  bed. 
Run  out,  Pdlsey,  an'  get  me  a  sheet  of  good  letter 
paper— mind  now  an'  get  it  good,  for  it's  to  send  to 
your  Uncle  f  elix." 

Con  and  Andy  now  took  their  leave,  the  former 
being  reminded  by  Mrs.  Bergen  to  be  sure  and  let 
Winny  ^»iutw  all  about  the  letter. 

"  Oh !  ril  do  that,  never  fear  I  I  intended  to  go 
to  see  her  to  morrow  evening,  an'  I'll  be  all  the  wel- 
comer  with  such  news  as  this.     Good  night !" 

"  Good  night, and  Qod  bless  you!"  said  Nora,  while 
Paul  went  with  them  to  the  top  of  tbe  step?,  telling 
them  to  take  care  of  themselves,  for  the  night  was 
dark.  "  An'  with  all  the  lamps  that  there  is,"  he 
added,  "  there's  many  a  dark  hole  an'  corner  here  an' 
there  where  bad  doings  are  carried  on  at  all  hours 
of  the  night.     So  mind  yourselves  now !" 

"  We  will,"  said  Con,  "  an'  thank  you  kindly  for 
your  advice,  Paul,  but  it's  little  use  our  minding 
would  be  if  God  did  not  mind  us,  too  !" 

"True  for  you,  Cornelias !"  said  Andy,  as  they 
walked  away  side  by  side ;  "the  protection  of  God 
Is  everything,  and  any  one  that  looks  for  it  in 
earnest  has  little  to  fear.     It  is  written  in  the  Holy 


214 


COM  o'reoan  ;  OS, 


Book :  '  He  is  our  helper  and  our  deliverer,  whom 
Bhall  wefear?'" 

"  What  a  power  of  Scripture  you  have,  Andy,'' 
Raid  Con,  in  a  respectful  tone;  "  it  must  have  taken 
you  a  long  time  to  larn  all  you  know !" 

"  Well,  it  did,  Cornelius,"  said  Andy,  with  a 
smothered  sigh;  "it  did  take  me  a  long  time,  sure 
enough — as  long,  I  think,  as  it  takes  many  a  one  to 
make  a  fortune.  And  what  am  I  the  better  for  it  all 
now  ? — if  I  knew  less,  I  think  my  burden  wouldn't 
be  so  heavy  as  it  is  I — howsomever,  it  may  all  como 
in  useful  some  day.  God  has  His  own  wise  ways  of 
working,  and  He'll  do  with  us  what  He  thinks  best. 
Blessed  be  His  name!  But  now,  Cornelius!"  he 
added,  drawing  nearer  his  companion,  and  lowering 
his  voice,  "  talking  of  learning  brings  something  into 
my  mind  that  troubles  me  a  good  deal,  and  often 
keeps  me  awake  thinking  when  all  the  world's  asleep. 
I  have  a  litle  family  growing  up  around  me,  and  it's 
no  easy  matter  to  get  them  schooled  in  a  place  like 
this,  where  there's  not  a  school  that  a  Christian  can 
send  his  child  to! — it's  true  I'm  able  enough  to 
teach  them  myself,  but  a  poor  laboring  man  coming 
home  after  his  day's  work  has  little  heart  for  be- 
ginning to  teach  three  or  four  children.  Still,  it's  a 
hard  thing  to  send  them  to  where  they're  sure  to 
learn  more  of  evil  than  of  good.  If  I  could  help  it, 
DO  child  of  mine  should  ever  set  foot  in  one  of  them 
Common  Schools." 

•'  And  why,  if  you  please,  Andy  ?"  asked  Con,  in 


5, 

)ur  deliverer,  whom 

you  have,  Andy,'' 
it  must  have  taken 
:now!" 

3aid  Andy,  with  a 
le  a  long  time,  sure 
akea  many  a  one  to 
[  the  better  for  it  all 
ay  burden  wouldn't 
rer,  it  may  all  come 
.8  own  wise  ways  of 
'hat  He  thinks  best, 
ow,  Cornelius!"  he 
anion,  and  lowering 
rings  something  into 
ood  deal,  and  often 
A\  the  world's  asleep. 

around  me,  and  it's 
}oled  in  a  place  like 
that  a  Christian  can 
'm  able  enough  to 
ftboring  man  coming 

little  heart  for  be- 

hildren.     Still,  it's  a 

here  they're  sure  to 

If  I  could  help  it, 

foot  in  one  of  them 

idy  ?"  asked  Con,  in 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORIJ). 


216 


the  same  respectful  tone.    "What  sort  of  sohoola 

are  they  ?" 

«  Why,  they're  neither  more  nor  less  than  infidel 
schools— heathen  schools,  Cornelius !  if  you  under- 
stand that  betier,  where  children  are  taught  every- 
thing but  religion.  They  may  do  well  enough  for 
Trotestants  of  all  sorts,  but  for  Catholics  they're 
ruin,  Cornelius!  ruin  and  detruction.  I've  been 
here  off  and  on  now  for  some  years,  and  I  tell  you 
I've  seen  enough  of  sending  Catholic  children  to 
those  State  Schools,  as  they  call  them,  and  for  the 
matter  of  that,  they  might  be  called  the  Devil's 
Schools,  as  far  as  Catholics  are  concerned.  That's 
God's  truth,  Cornelius !  and  I  tell  it  to  you  as  a  sen- 
Bible  young  man  that  knows  the  value  of  faith !"' 

Andy  had  now  reached  his  own  door,  and  was 
about  to  raise  the  latch  when  Con  said,  "  What  in 
the  world  is  this,  Andy  ?— j"st  wait  a  minute,  for 
God's  sake !" 

"  Who  are  they  ?"  whispered  Andy,  as  they  ap- 
proached two  men  who  were  wrangling  at  a  little 
distance.  "  Why,  one  of  them  is  Tom  Derragh— 
sure  enough  it  is— well  1  well!  isn't  he  the  graceless 
vagabond  ?" 

"An'  the  other  is  Larry  Tierney!"  said  Con; 
<'  don't  you  think  so,  Andy  ?" 

•'Well  no!— but  stay!- why,  I  declare  to  my 
goodness,  it  is  just  Larry  Tierney,  my  next  door 
neighbor.  Oh  then !  oh  then  I  isn't  this  too  bad— 
iau't  it,  now  ?" 


2I« 


CON  o'rroam  ;  OR, 


As  yet  no  blows  had  been  slruok  on  either  side 
80  that  there  was  still  a  chance  of  preventing  mis- 
chief,  and  while  Con  took  Tom  Derragh  in  charge, 
Andy  applied  himself  to  pacify  Tierney.  They  had 
both  worked  themselves  up  to  such  a  state  of  excite- 
ment that  it  was  no  easy  task  to  keep  them  asnnder. 

"Let  rae  at  him!"  shouted  Tom,  struggling  to 
disengage  himself  from  the  sinewy  grasp  of  Con ; 

"  be  called  me  a  lazy,  idle  vagabone,  and  by ," 

swearing  an  awful  oath,  "  I'll  pound  him  into  mum- 
my ! — the  low-lived,  mean  spirited  dog  1 — I  don't 
hang  around  the  taverns  as  be  does  from  nightfall 
to  bed-time,  lookin'  for  a  chance  to  guzzle  down  tho 
drink  at  some  fool's  expense  I — let  me  at  him,  I  say, 
or  I'll  give  it  to  you,  too  !" 

"  Just  listen  to  me  now !"  said  Con,  soothingly ; 
•  come  into  Andy  Dwyer's  here  both  of  you  till 
you  cool  down  a  little.    You'll  be  sorry  for  this 
■when  you're  sober  I" 

"  Sober !"'  hiccupped  Tom ;  "  who  says  I'm  not 
sober  now  ! — keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head.  Con 
O'llogan,  or  I'll  thrash  you  as  I  done  many  a  time 
before." 

Andy  on  his  side  had  equally  hard  work  to  keep 
Tierney  from  flying  at  Tom,  and  there  was  every 
prospect  of  the  watch  being  on  the  spot  presently, 
for  a  crowd  was  beginning  to  gather.  "When  all 
/ailed  him,  Con  whispered  in  Tom's  ear :  •'  Take 
care,  Tom,  or  I'll  go  and  tell  Father  Timlin !    Til 


o 

h 

y 

u 

ll 


Struck  on  either  tide 
)  of  preventing  mis- 
,  Derragh  in  charge, 

Tierney.  They  had 
Buch  a  state  of  exoite- 
}  keep  them  asnnder. 

Tom,  struggliog  to 
newy  grasp  of  Con; 

ibone,  and  by ," 

ound  him  into  mnm- 
ited    dog  I — I  don't 

does  from  nightfall 
e  to  guzzle  down  the 
-let  me  at  him,  I  say, 

aid  Con,  soothingly ; 
re  both  of  you  till 
11  be  sorry  for   this 

"who  says  I'm  not 
le  in  your  head.  Con 
I  done  many  a  time 

hard  work  to  keep 
rad  there  was  every 
1  the  spot  presently, 

gather.  When  all 
Tom's  ear :  «'  Take 
Father  Timlin !    Fll 


EMIGRANT  UFE  IN  THE  NRW  WORLD. 


ill 


have  him  here  in  a  minute  if  you  don't  stop  yoaf 
■onsense  and  come  into  the  house  I" 

Instead  of  quieting  Derragh,  this  unfortunate  threat 
only  served  to  increase  his  rage.  "  Father  Timlin  V 
he  cried,  turning  fiercely  on  Con,  "  and  what  if  he 
wore  here  now  ?  Let  him  mind  his  own  business. 
He  a'nt  in  Ireland  now,  I  guess!  Ha!  Tierney, 
you  dog !  I'm  at  you  1"  and  Con  being  really  some< 
what  exhausted  by  his  previous  exertions,  could 
not  have  held  him  much  longer,  but  just  then  a 
lucky  thought  came  into  his  mind,  and  he  whia* 
pered  again  in  Derragh's  ear : 

"  And  Peggy  ! — what  will  she  say  when  she  hears 
of  this,  and  that  you're  in  the  station-house  all  night 
to-iiight,  as  you  will  be  in  two  minutes,  for  there's 
the  watoh  coming.  For  God's  sake  come  in  before 
you're  taken !" 

The  mention  of  Peggy's  name  had  a  magical  effect 
on  the  besotted  brain  of  Derragh.  In  an  instant  be 
calmed  down,  saying 

"  You're  right,  Con ! — what  would  she  say,  poor 
unfortunate  girl?  I'll  go  anywhere  you  like,  Con  t 
I  will,  indeed!  Let  that  drunken  scoundrel  go  to 
the  devil  if  he  likes ! — I  wouldn't  dirty  my  fingers 
with  him !" 

Fortunately  this  was  said  in  a  low  voice,  so  that 
it  did  not  reach  the  ears  of  the  person  so  oourte- 
ously  apostrophized,  and  Andy,  who  had  also  seen 
the  watoh  coming,  just  then  opened  Tierney's  door 
and  pushed  him  in,  he  struggling  and  vowing  ven- 


218 


CON  o'rkoan  ;  OR, 


geance  all  the  time,  then  went  in  after  him  and 
closed  the  door.  At  the  same  moment  ('on  got  his 
game  safely  bagged  in  Andy  Dwyer's  comfortable 
kitchen,  to  the  great  surprise  of  the  good  dame  who 
was  quietly  sewing  at  a  table  near  the  window. 
Her  children  were  all  in  bed,  and  she  had  been  just 
beguiling  the  time  with  the  loves  of  Lord  Lovell 
and  Lady  Bancy  Nell,  as  commemorated  in  an  an- 
cient  and  time-honored  ballad  learned  in  early  child- 
hood from  well-beloved  lips,  long  mouldering  into 
dust.  Many  a  sadly-pleasing  memory  arose  before 
the  placid  mind  of  the  singer  connected  with  the 
words  of  the  quaint,  old  ditty,  and  so  she  Sat  sing- 
ing and  sewing,  and  thinking  and  sighing,  all  in  the 
quietest  of  ways,  when  the  door  was  flung  open,  and 
in  bounced  Con  with  his  tamed  mastiff,  the  latter 
looking  deplorably  stupid,  and  not  a  little  sullen. 

"  Goodness  me  1"  said  Mrs.  Dwyer,  getting  over 
her  fright  somewhat,  as  she  recognized  Con,  who 
had  been  there  once  before.  "  Goodness  me !  but 
you  most  frightened  the  life  in  me.  Sit  down,  Con ! 
—and  who's  this  ?— why,  Tom  Derragh,  1  declare ! 
Andy's  not  in  now,  but  I  expect  him  every  minute. 
It's  newens  for  him,  indeed,  to  be  out  so  late." 

This  broad  hint  rather  disconcerted  Con ;  how- 
ever, ho  resolved  to  leave  all  explanation  for  Andy 
himself,  at  a  more  fitting  time,  and  muttered  some- 
thing about  passing  that  way,  and  meeting  with  Tom 
Derragh  at  the  door,  and  asked  him  in  to  Bee  hoyt 
they  all  were. 


•w 


ai 
a 
ai 

IS 

Ci 

h 

V 

n 

I 
a 
t 

t 
t 


OR, 

nt  in  aflcr  him  and 
moment  ('on  got  his 
Dwyer's  comfortable 
f  the  good  dame  who 
e  near  the  window. 
,nd  she  had  been  just 
loves  of  Lord  Lovell 
memorated  in  an  au< 
learned  in  early  child - 
ong  mouldering  into 
memory  arose  before 
•  connected  with  the 
■,  and  so  she  fiat  sing- 
ind  sighing,  all  in  the 
»r  was  flung  open,  and 
kcd  mastiff,  the  latter 
I  not  a  little  sullen. 
Dwyer,  getting  over 
recognized  Con,  who 
"  Goodness  me !  but 
me.     Sit  down.  Con ! 
I  Derragh,  1  declare! 
ect  him  every  minute. 
I  be  out  so  late." 
concerted  Con;   how- 
explanation  for  Andy 
},  and  muttered  some- 
md  meeting  with  Tom 
d  him  in  to  see  hcW 


KMIGRAKT  UFK  IN  THR  NEW  WORLD. 


219 


"Much  obliged  to  you!"  said  Mrs.  Dwyer,  in  a 
very  dry  tone,  as  though  she  would  have  said :  "  I 
wish  you  had  taken  a  more  seasonable  time  for  your 
visit." 

Con  felt  himself  in  a  very  awkward  position,  and 
as  for  Tom  he  sat  looking  at  the  opposite  wall  with 
a  vacant  stare.  He  was  evidently  growing  more 
and  more  stupid,  under  the  influence  of  the  heat. 
Now  and  then  a  few  half-uttered  words  were  heard 
coming  from  his  throat  with  a  hoarse  guttural  sound. 

"  I  know  very  well,  Mrs.  Dwyer,"  said  Con,  in  a 
low  voice,  "I  know  very  well  that  you  think  it 
filrange  to  see  me  in  such  company,  but  Mr.  Dwyer 
will  tell  you  how  it  all  happened.  Indeed,  it's  not 
my  fault  at  all." 

"Well!  I  am  glad  to  hear  that,  anyhow,"  said 
Mrs.  Dwyer,  in  the  same  under  tone,  "for  I  was 
afeard  you  were  takin'  up  with  bad  company,  an' 
that's  the  ruination  of  many  a  one,  Con.  But 
what  could  I  think  seein'  you  boultin'  in  on  me  at 
this  hour  of  the  night  with  such  a  companion  as 
that?  You  know  the  old  sayin'  that  there  is  where 
we  both  came  from ;  '  Show  me  the  company  you 
keep  and  I'll  tell  you  the  sort  of  a  person  you  are  ?' 
Oh  dear  me,  Con,  isn't  that  the  sorrowful  sight  to 
see?"  pointing  to  Tom,  who  was  now  fast  asleep 
and  snoring  away  for  dear  life,  his  head  hanging  on 
his  chest ;  "  isn't  it  as  good  as  a  sermon  to  look  at 
that  man,  young  an'  strong,  an'  a  clean  likely  fellow, 
too,  if  he'd  only  keep  himself  as  ho  ought  I    Och ! 


220 


COV    0  REOAN  ;    OR, 


och  !  but  it's  little  business  the  likes  of  him  has 
comin'  to  America,  for  dear  knows,  Con,  it  takes 
hard,  close  savin'  an'  the  best  of  good  conduct  to 
bring  people  through  in  it.  But  here's  Andy 
comin',  I  think." 

The  door  opened  and  Dwyer  entered,  casting  an 
anxious  glance  around  to  see  that  there  was  no  dis- 
turbance. All  was  quiet,  however,  and  the  worthy 
man  breathed  more  freely,  for  he  hated  quarrelling, 
he  used  to  say,  as  he  hated  the  devil,  the  Lord  par- 
don him  for  mentioning  his  name.  With  a  heavy 
sigh  and  a  sorrowful  shake  of  the  head  he  passed 
the  unconscious  Derragh  and  took  his  seat  by  Con, 
whose  hand  he  warmly  skook.  "  Well,  Cornelius," 
said  he,  "  I'm  s«re  you're  as  well  pleased  as  I  am 
that  we  had  the  good  luck  to  come  up  when  we  did. 
If  we  hada't,  there  would  have  been  another  dis- 
graceful scene  in  the  Police  Court  to-morrow,  attd 
these  two  poor  witless  creatures  would  have  been 
either  fined  or  clapped  into  jail  for  a  start." 

Mrs.  Dwyer  expressed  her  desire  to  know  what 

had  happened,  and  when  she  had  heard  all,  she,  reach 

ed  her  hand  to  Con  with  a  benevolent  smile  saying . 

"  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  the  wrong  I  done 

you  in  my  own  mind  when  you  first  came  in  !" 

Con  assured  her  that  there  was  no  need  of  any 
apology,  as  her  suspicions  were  quite  natural.  It 
was  then  arranged  that  a  bed  should  be  made  on 
the  floor  for  Tom,  who  was  not  in  a  condition  to  go 
out,  and  Con  bade  his  kind  friends  "  good  night." 


0 

Bl 

hi 


d 
fi: 
t\ 
it 


y 

n 

ti 


OR, 


KMIGRANT  LIVB  IN  THR  NEW  WORLH. 


sai 


the  likea  of  him  has 

knows,  Con,  it  takes 

t  of  good  conduct  to 

But    here's  Andy 

er  entered,  casting  an 
that  there  was  no  dls- 
?^ever,  and  the  worthy 

he  hated  quarrelling, 
e  devil,  the  Lord  par- 
name.  "With  a  heavy 
f  the  head  he  passed 

took  his  seat  by  Con, 
:.     "  Well,  Cornelius," 

well  pleased  as  I  am 
come  up  when  we  did. 
ave  been  another  dis- 
Court  to-morrow,  attd 
ares  would  have  been 
il  for  a  start." 
'  desire  to  know  what 
ad  heard  all,  she,  reach 
^nevoleut  smile  saying . 
e  for  the  wrong  I  done 
ou  first  came  in  !" 
e  was  no  ceed  of  any 
'ere  quite  natural.  It 
sd  should  be  made  on 
lot  in  a  condition  to  go 
rienda  "  good  night." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

About  seven  o'clock  on  the  following  evening  Coa 
O'Regan  was  at  Miss  Coulter's  door,  and  his  modest 
summons  was  answered  by  Letty,  who,  on  seeing 
him  by  the  light  of  the  hall-lamp,  exclaimed : 

"  Ah !  I  guess  your  VVinny's  brother,  a'nt  yon  ?" 

Con  having  answered  in  the  affirmative  was  shown 
down  stairs,  where  he  found  his  sister  hard  at  work 
finishing  some  article  of  under  clothing  for  one  of 
the  ladies.  Winny  was  a  littlo  cool  at  first,  saying, 
in  her  quiet  way  : 

"  Ah,  then,  it's  a  wonder  you  came  at  all  I — why 
didn't  you  stay  a  little  longer  ?" 

"Indeed,  th'^-<, Winny,  I'd  have  been  here  sooner— 
you  know  ver)  i<rell  it  wasn't  my  heart  that  hindered 
me,  only  I  was  a  little  timorous  in  regard  of  givia 
trouble." 

Winny  smiled  and  was  about  to  answer,  but  Letty 
took  the  word  out  of  her  mouth,  as  she  said  herself 

"  Never  yon  mind  that,  Mister  O'Regan        " 

"  Con,  if  you  please." 

"  Well,  then,  Con,  if  that's  what  they  call  you— 
you  may  come  to  see  Winny  as  oflen  as  you've  % 


iS3 


COK  o'rkgam  ;  OR, 


mind  to.  The  ladies  han't  any  objection  to  your 
coming  at  any  time.  And  now  I  think  of  it,  they 
want  to  speak  to  you  before  you  leave.  I  guess  it's 
about  that  'ere  loan  that  you're  to  have,  but,  of 
course,  I  don't  know.  I  never  want  to  know  any- 
thing about  other  folks'  business." 

Con  looked  at  Winny  and  Winny  smiled,  but 
neither  made  any  reply,  so  Letty  resumed  her  iron- 
ing, and  left  the  brother  and  sister  to  "  have  their 
talk."  Havinor  chatted  over  their  own  affairs  for  a 
little  while.  Con  suddenly  exclaimed  :  "  Why,  then, 
•what  sort  of  a  memory  have  I  at  aU — sure  I  was  for- 
gettin'  all  about  the  Bergens." 

"  Why,  what  about  them.  Con  ?"  asked  Winny,  in 
visible  trepidation. 

"  Oh !  nothing  but  what  you'll  bo  glad  to  hear." 
He  then  proceeded  to  relate  Paul's  good  luck  of  the 
previous  day,  which  rejoiced  Winny  exceedingly, 
and  they  were  both  so  intent  on  the  pleasing  theme, 
discussing  it  in  every  possible  way,  that  they  lost 
eight  of  Letty,  who  was  not,  it  appeared,  quite  so  ob- 
livious of  <AeiV  presence — she  had  laid  down  her  iron 
during  Con's  narrative,  and  broke  in  suddenly  at  the 
end  with : 

"  Well  now !  if  that  a'nt  what  I  call  handsome  !" 

"  What  ?"  was  the  simultaneous  question  of  bro- 
ther and  sister. 

"  Why,  that  'ere  man's  doing  so  well  for  his  bro- 
ther, and  be  such  an  idle,  drinking,  good-for-notl  ing 
feller." 


OR, 

iny  objection  to  your 
>w  I  think  of  it,  they 
rou  leave.  I  guess  it's 
lu'ro  to  have,  but,  of 
Br  want  to  know  any- 
esB." 

cl  Winny  smiled,  but 
stty  resumed  her  iron- 
I  sister  to  "  have  their 
their  own  affairs  for  a 
laimed  :  "  "Why,  then, 
at  aU — sure  I  was  for- 

!on  ?"  asked  Winny,  in 

m'll  bo  glad  to  hear." 
*aul*8  good  luck  of  the 
1  Winny  exceedingly, 
on  the  pleasing  theme, 
e  way,  that  they  lost 
;  appeared,  quite  so  ob- 
lad  laid  down  her  iron 
oke  in  suddenly  at  the 

liat  I  call  handsome  !" 
leoos  question  of  bro- 

g  so  well  for  his  bro- 
l^ingi  good-for-notl  ing 


SlIIQRANT  LIFK  IN  TOE  NEW  WORLD. 


223 


"  Who  are  yon  talkin'  of,  Letty  ?"  said  Winny, 
quickly. 

"  Why,  of  that  Paul  Bergen  as  got  the  letter." 

"Well!  I  didn't  think  you  knew  him,"  observed 
Winny,  with  a  sly  glance  at  her  brother,  "  but,  at 
any  rate,  he's  not  the  man  you  take  him  for.  He 
used  to  take  a  drop  too  much  now  and  then,  but 
that's  all  past  away.  For  the  last  three  or  four 
months  he  hasn't  tasted  anything  of  the  kind  to  my 
knowledge." 

"  Oh  1  of  course  I  don't  know  anything  about  the 
man  only  as  I  heard  Peggy  Daly  say.  If  he's  sober 
now,  why  all  the  better;  it's  nothing  to  me,  you 
know !" 

"  So,  I  suppose.  Con,  you'll  be  all  going  together 
in  the  spring — and  that's  not  far  off  now,"  added 
Winny,  with  a  heavy  sigh.  "  Maybe  there  might  be 
some  more  going,  too." 

"  Well  I  I  don't  know  as  to  that,"  said  Con,  "  but 
I  wish  there  may.  Father  Timlin 'says  if  there  was  a 
few  of  us  going  together  it  'id  be  so  much  the  better. 
I  wonder,"  and  he  lowered  his  voice  almost  to  a 
whisper,  "  I  wonder  when  will  the  old  ladies  advance 
the  money  ?  I'm  told  there  are  some  little  things 
that  I  had  best  take  from  here." 

The  ironing  was  again  suspended.  Letty's  quick 
ear  caught  the  tenor  of  the  discourse,  if  not  the  pre- 
cise words.  "  Oh !  as  to  that,"  said  she,  "  you  can 
have  the  money  whenever  you  want  to.  But  han't 
you  got  any  of  your  own  ? — why !  la  me !  yon  onght 


^■vij^w^pB^WH^^P^^^KW***'*^^ 


924 


COM  o'reoan  ;  OS, 


to  have — how,   on   eartb,  can  yon  spend  all   you 
earn  ?" 

This  startling  question  brought  the  blood  to  Con's 
cheek,  and  he  again  looked  at  Winny,  who  hastened 
to  reply :  "  My  brother  has  a  little  of  his  own,  L-^tty, 
an'  he  might  have  more  only  for  my  long  sickness. 
He  left  himself  bare  then." 

"  Now,  I  declare,  Winny,  it's  a  shame  for  you  to 
talk  that  way,"  said  Con,  almost  angrily.  "Don't 
you  know  very  well  tliat  I  was  only  payin'  you  back 
a  little  of  what  you  sent  us  home  ever  bo  many 
times." 

"  Well !  well !  never  mind,"  said  his  sister,  laugh- 
ing, "just  keep  your  temper  an'  your  seat  a  little 
longer,"  for  he  had  jumped  to  his  feet.  "  Weren't 
you  sayin'  something  awhile  agone  about  Tom  Der- 
ragh?" 

"  Tom  Derragh  1"  repeated  Letty,  taking  up  the 
word ;  "  why,  that's  Peggy's  Tom,  a'nt  he  ? — a  regu- 
lar scapegrace  that  feller  is,  and  I  can't  make  out 
why  Peggy  holds  on  to  him  so ! — ^has  anything  hap 
pened  to  him  ?" 

Con  evaded  the  question  as  best  he  might,  observ- 
iflg  that  he  was  not  much  acquainted  with  the  young 
man,  and  knew  very  little  about  hira.  Winny  took 
the  hint,  and  made  no  further  inquirted  on  the  sub- 
ject. Con  then  reminded  Letty  that  tho  ladies 
wanted  to  see  him,  and  bidding  Winny  a  kind  "  good 
night,"  was  speedily  ushered  into  the  dining-room 


yon  spend  all  yon 

It  the  blood  to  Con's 
rinny,  who  hastened 
tie  of  his  own,  L'-tty, 
or  my  long  sickness. 

a  shame  for  yon  to 
3St  angrily.  "Don't 
only  payin'  you  back 
home  ever  bo  many 

aid  his  sister,  langh- 
m'  your  seat  a  little 
his  feet.  "Weren't 
one  about  Tom  Der- 

Letty,  taking  np  the 
tra,  a'nt  he  ? — a  regn- 
id  I  can't  make  out 
! — ^haa  anything  hap 

lest  he  might,  observ- 
linted  with  the  young 
It  him.  "Wiuny  took 
nquiiied  on  the  sub- 
8tty  that  tha  ladies 
"Winny  a  kind  "good 
into  the  dining-room 


BMIORANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


2aft 


above,  Winny  calling  oat  to  him  as  he  ascended  the 
stairs  in  Letty's  wake : 

"Tell  Mrs.  Bergen  I'll  be  down  to  see  her  on 
Sunday  afternoon." 

"  I  will,"  said  Con,  "  and  mind  you  don't  forget, 
for  I'll  be  there,  too." 

He  had  now  reached  the  dining-room  door,  where 
he  paused  to  smooth  down  his  hair  and  give  his 
shoes  an  extra  wipe,  which  he  did  with  some  hesita- 
tion and  more  reluctance,  owing  to  the  beauty  of 
the  soft,  downy  mat. 

"  Good  evening,  Con  1"  said  Miss  Coulter,  and 
"good  evening,  Conl"  said  Miss  Debby,  as  they 
raised  their  eyes  from  the  chess-board  before  them, 
to  fix  a  smiling  look  on  Winny's  brother  and  "  Sam- 
my's" favorite  protege.  Con  answered  only  with  a 
very  low  bow,  which  he  tried  hard  to  make  as  re- 
spectful as  possible. 

Well,  Con !"  said  the  elder  lady,  "  my  sister  and 
I  are  glad  to  see  you.  You  must  come  often  to  see 
Winny.  She  is  a  very  good  girl — very  good  indeed. 
Mrs.  Coulter  did  not  know  her  value.  But  we  do, 
and  so  does  Letty." 

"Yes,  that  I  do,"  said  the  person  mentioned,  an- 
swering from  behind  Con,  to  the  great  surprise  of 
the  latter,  who  thought  she  had  returned  to  the 
kitchen.  But  no  such  thing,  she  had  discovered 
something  out  of  its  place,  and,  of  course,  there  was 
DO  time  like  the  present  for  putting  it  to  rights. 

"  Yes,  that  I  do,"  repeated  Letty ;  "  Winny  a'nl 


If« 


COK  o'bkqan  ;  OH, 


one  bit  like  what  lollcs  say  of  the  Irisli.  Sho»s  a  real 
nice,  lidj'  girl,  and  gives  no  more  trouble  in  the 
house  since  she's  bin  here  than  a  child.  IlikeWinny, 
I  do,  and  I  a'nt  pleased  with  Mrs.  Coulter  for  treat- 
ing her  so ! — I  a'ut  1" 

Letty  spoke  as  a  privileged  servant,  well  know- 
ing with  whom  she  had  to  deal,  and  though  the  la- 
dies administered  a  faint  rebuke  in  the  form  of  a 
"  fie  I  fie  !  Letty  I— don't  speak  so,  child  !"  the  smile 
which  accompanied  the  words  belied  their  import. 
So  Letty  nodded,  and  said, "  I  a'nt  saying  but  what's 
true,"  and  went  on  with  her  dusting  and  arranging 
at  the  sideboard. 

"  But  what  about  the  money,  Con  ?"  said  Miss 
Coulter,  kindly ;  "  a'nt  you  beginning  to  think  of 
going  yet  ?" 

"  Not  for  a  month  or  so,  Miss !"  said  Con,  "  but 
I'm  gettin'  ray  clothes  an*  things  in  readiness." 

"Is  there  any  prospect  of  your  having  company 
on  the  way  ?" 

"Why,  ray  stars,  yes!"  said  Letty,  before  Con 
could  get  out  a  word.  "  There's  Paul  something— 
Paul — Paul  Berrington — a  great  friend  of  Con's  and 
"Winny's.  He's  just  got  a  letter  from  his  brother 
out  in  Iowa  to  go  there  right  off,  so  he'll  be  with 
Con  all  the  way.  A  sober  man  he  is,  too,  though 
he  wasn't  always  so.  My  sakes !  it's  a  first-rate 
chance  for  Con — a'nt  it  ?" 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  each  sister  in 
turn,  "  and  so  will  Sammy  be,  too." 


«yr 


;  0". 

the  Irisli.  Slio's  a  real 
more  trouble  in  tlie 
a  child.  IlikeWinny, 
Mrs.  Coulter  for  treat- 
id  servant,  well  know- 
;al,  and  tliough  the  la- 
buke  in  the  form  of  a 
ik  so,  child  !"  the  smile 
Is  belied  their  import. 
[  a'nt  saying  but  what's 
dusting  and  arranging 

iney,  Con?"  said  Miss 
beginning  to  think  of 

Miss  !"  said  Con,  "  but 

ings  in  readiness." 

'  your  having  company 

laid  Letty,  before  Con 
lere's  Paul  something — 
reat  friend  of  Con's  and 
letter  from  his  brother 
ght  off,  so  he'll  be  with 
man  he  is,  too,  though 
sakes !  it's  a  first-rate 

it,"  said  each  sister  in 
le,  too." 


KMIORANT  UFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


227 


"I  havbn't  seen  Mr.  Coulter  yet.  Miss,  to  tell  him, 
but  I  know  he'll  be  well  pleased,  for  he  was  sayin' 
to  me  the  other  day  that  he  hoped  there  would  be 
some  others  goin',  because  it  'id  be  a  lonesome  tbini; 
to  go  such  a  long  ways  by  one's  pelf." 

"  Well,  Con,  you  can  have  tho  loan  we  promised 
you  at  any  lime.  Brother  and  you  can  arrange  all 
about  the  payment.  Would  you  wi.«h  to  have  it  to- 
morrow or  next  day  ?" 

"  Oh  no  !  Miss,"  said  Con,  hastily,  "  not  so  soon, 
if  you  please !  I'd  be  frettin'  the  life  out  of  me,  if  I 
had  it,  for  fear  of  anything  happenin'  it,  an'  then  I'd 
be  done  for  entirely.  I  have  enough,  thank  God,  to 
get  what  little  things  I  want,  an'  I'll  not  trouble  you 
till  I'm  just  ready  to  go." 

"  Very  good,  Con  1 1  see  you  are  prudent,  as  well 
as  faithful.  Well !  that  was  all  we  had  to  say,  so 
you  can  go  now  1" 

"  And  mind  you  come  often  to  see  Winny  1"^ 
added  Miss  Dcbby,  as  she  began  to  arrange  the 
board  for  another  game. 

"  Oh  f  there's  no  fear  of  me  forgettin'  that,  ladies, 
whe::  you'ro  so  good  ae  to  give  me  leave.  May  the 
Loid  blk>ER  you,  both  now  and  for  ever  !" 

"  Lolly  !  show  Con  to  the  doo-,  will  you  ?"  said 
the  elder  hister ;  then,  as  they  prepared  to  commence 
their  game,  she  added  in  a  dreamy,  musing  tone, 
"  what  a  singular  way  these  Irish  have  of  blessing 
one  at  every  turn  I — a'nt  it  queer  ?" 

•'  Well,  it  is,"  returned  Debby, "  but  it  comes  from 


228  CON  o'regan  ;  or, 

their  goodness  of  heart,  I  dare  say.  They  mean 
well,  you  know,  and  we  must  overlook  any  htUo 
error  of  judgment  when  the  heart  is  all  right.  Dear 
Mr.  ShiUingworth  will  have  it  that  this  practice  <t 
the  Irish  is  a  most  profane  one,  but,  oh,  dear !  I 
can't  think  so  !  They  always  mention  the  name  ot 
God  with  respect,  and  so  I  can't  see  how  they  pro- 
fane  it  by  praying  Him  to  bless  folks.  The  custom 
may  be  idle  and  profitless,  Dolly,  but  it  cannot  be 

^'naving  reached  this  sage  conclusion.  Miss  Debby 
dismissed  the  subject  from  her  thoughts  and  applied 
herself  heart  and  soul  to  the  game.  As  for  Letty, 
Bhe  made  all  haste  down  to  the  kitchen,  to  un- 
burthen  her  busy,  restless  mind.  Her  good  will 
towards  Winny  was  not  confined  to  mere  idle  talk, 
although  that  was  never  wanting.  Letty's  heart 
was  a  good  one,  as  times  go. 

«'  So  your  brother  will  be  starting  in  about  a 
mouth,"  said  she,  "  and  I  guess  he'll  need  some 
things  made,  won't  he  ?— well,  I've  just  bin  a  think- 
ing that  you  can  make  anything  he  wants  in  the 
way  of  shirts,  or  the  like,  after  hours.  Miss  Coulter 
never  wants  you  to  work,  you  know,  after  seven,  or 
thereabouts.  So,  jest  git  the  cotton  and  things  to- 
morrow, and  I'll  bo  real  glad  to  give  you  a  hand 
evenings  when  I've  my  work  done  up." 

«'  God  bless  you,  Letty  I"  said  Winny,  fervently, 
••I'm  sure  I  can  never  forget  your  kindness,  and  I'll 
pray  for  you  the  longest  day  I  have  to  live,  for 


KMIORANT  UFE  IN  THR  NKW  WORI.n. 


220 


re  say.  They  mean 
overlook  any  little 
rt  is  all  right.  Dear 
that  this  practice  <( 
one,  but,  oh,  dear !  1 
nention  the  name  of 
Q't  see  how  they  pro- 
J  folks.  The  cuslora 
lly,  but  it  cannot  be 

nclusion.  Miss  Debby 
thoughts  and  applied 
game.  As  for  Letty, 
the  kitchen,  to  un- 
liud.  Her  good  will 
jed  to  mere  idle  talk, 
Qting.    Lelty's  heart 

1  BtArling  in  about  a 
less  he'll  need  some 
,  I've  just  bin  a  think- 
Ihing  he  wants  in  the 
■  hours.  Miss  Coulter 
I  know,  after  seven,  or 

cotton  and  things  to- 
d  to  give  you  a  hand 

done  up." 

said  Winny,  fervently, 
your  kindness,  and  I'll 
ay  I  have  to  live,  for 


yoa've  been  all  as  one  as  a  sister  to  me  ever  since  I 
came  here !" 

"  Well !  I  must  say  I'll  be  right  glad  to  have  you 
remember  me,"  and  Letty  laughed  merrily,  "  but  as 
for  that  'ere  praying,  I  kinder  think  it  a'nt  much 
use,  80  you  needn't  trouble  yourself  praying  for  me, 
I  guess  you've  got  enough  to  pray  for  already." 

"  Oh !  Letty,  Letty  !  don't  talk  that  way  !— don't 
now,  Letty,  for  it  grieves  my  heart  to  hear  you,  an' 
you  so  good  an'  kind  to  me  !" 

Letty  only  laughed  again,  but  she  was  not  insen- 
sible to  Winny's  evident  distress,  so  she  hastened 
to  soothe  her  with  :  "  Well !  I  won't  then,  if  you 
feel  BO  dreadful  bad  about  it.  But,  my  sakes! 
Where's  the  use  of  a  body  making  believe  ?  I  don't 
think  your  prayers,  or  any  other  one's  prayers  can 
do  me  any  good — the  Lord  will  give  me  just  what 
He  has  a  mind  to,  whether  you  ask  Him  or  not. 
That's  my  notion,  you  see,  and  there  a'nt  any  good 
that  I  can  see  in  my  telling  you  a  different  story. 
Now,  a'nt  that  true  ?" 

"  Well !  I  suppose  so,"  daid  Winny,  in  a  dejected 
tune;  then  she  added  within  herself,  "there's  no 
use  strugglin'  against  the  stream.  God  pity  her, 
poor  creature !  she's  as  blind  as  a  bat !" 

A  few  minutes  and  the  whole  was  forgot^fln  by 
Letty,  who  took  up  her  sowing  and  commenced 
humming  a  popular  negro  melody,  with  the  air  of 
one  who  had  not  a  care  or  sorrow  in  the  world. 
Her  fresh  Milesian  face  was  seldom  darkened  by  a 


S80 


CON  o'regan  ;  OR, 


cloud,  and  as  she  sat  there  carolling  her  inspiring 
lay,  it  seemed  happier  and  more  joyous  even  than 
its  wont.  Winny  sigl»ed  as  she  looked,  for  Letty's 
happiness  was  that  of  the  good-natured,  upright 
heathen,  well  pleased  with  self  and  with  all  the 
world,  a  fact  which  was  plainly  discernible  to  the 
oye  of  faith. 

On  the  following  evening  when  Paul  Bergen  came 
home  from  his  work,  he  found  his  little  household 
all  in  confusion,  and  Nora  met  him  at  the  door  with 
a  half-crazed  look  and  manner.  "  Run  off  down  the 
street,  Paul  I"  she  cried,  "  an  see  if  you'll  see 
Patsey  1" 

"  Patsey !  why,  isn't  he  here  ?" 

"  No,  nor  wasn't  since  he  went  to  school  in  the 
afternoon.  Oh !  God  help  us  I  God  help  us !"  she 
cried,  wringing  her  hands,  and  bursting  into  tears, 
"  maybe  it's  brought  home  to  us  like  Peter  he'll  be." 

Paul  waited  to  hear  no  more.  With  the  dread 
experieuce  of  the  past  before  him,  he  had  reason  to 
fear  the  very  worst,  and  he  ran,  like  a  madman,  to 
Andy  Dwyer's  hoping  that  Patsey  might  be  there. 
But  istead  of  that  he  found  Mrs,  Dwyer  nearly  ad 
wild  as  Nora,  for  her  eldest  boy  was  missing,  too. 

"Lord  save  us !"  cried  Paul,  "  where  can  they  be? 
— still  an'  rU,  Mrs.  Dwyer,  my  mind's  a  little  easier 
now,  for  Bi  HXXTQ  as  anything,  they're  together,  wher- 
ever thoy  tre.    I  suppose  Andy's  not  home  yet  t' 

"No,  but  I  expect  him  every  minnit.  But  go, 
for  God'B  sake  !— there's  no  time  to  be  lost  I" 


.i^lajj^ilwy^'feMft-^.-"'*^-^" 


)B, 


RiliaRAKT  LIFB  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


231 


oiling  her  inspiring 
re  joyous  even  than 
looked,  for  Letty's 
od-natured,  upright 
f  and  with  all  the 
J  discernible  to  the 

n  Paul  Bergen  came 
his  little  household 

urn  at  the  door  with 
'*Run  off  down  the 

a  see  if  you'll    see 


ent  to  school  in  the 
I  God  help  us !"  she 

bursting  into  tears, 
3  like  Peter  he'll  be." 
re.  With  the  dread 
im,  he  had  reason  to 
D,  like  a  madman,  to 
tsey  might  be  tliere. 
[rs,  Dwyer  nearly  ad 
y  was  missing,  too. 
"  where  can  tliey  be  ? 

mind's  a  little  easier 
ley're  together,  wher- 
yr's  not  home  yet  V 
iTY  minnit.     But  go, 
le  to  be  lost  I" 


Paul  had  no  intention  to  wait,  and  he  turned  sway 
to  conomence  his  vague  search,  not  knowing  where 
to  go  or  what  to  do.  Had  he  but  the  slightest  clue 
to  lead  him  on,  he  would  have  followed  to  the  death, 
but  to  begin  to  seek  two  missing  urchins  in  a  city 
like  that,  was  literally  a  hopeless  task. 

"  I  might  as  well  look  for  a  needle  in  a  bundle  of 
straw  I"  said  Paul ;  "  but  still  I  must  do  something. 
God  direct  me  where  to  go !"  So,  taking  heart  of 
grace,  he  went  in  turn  to  the  dwelling  of  each  of  his 
acquaintances  within  a  circuit  of  several  streets,  but 
no  P&tsey  was  to  be  found.  Sick  at  heart,  faint 
from  long  fasting  after  the  hard  labor  of  the  after- 
noon, and  almost  despairing  of  ever  finding  his  boy 
alive,  he  at  length  turned  his  steps  homeward,  and 
reached  his  own  door  almost  exhausted.  All  at 
once  he  stopped  he  heard  his  wife's  voice  speaking 
in  a  loud,  excited  tone,  and  the  terrible  thought 
struck  him  that  Patsey  had  been  brought  home — 
perhaps  a  corpse.  "  That's  it,"  said  he ;  "  he's  either 
killed  or  badly  hurt,  an'  the  poor  heart-broken 
woman's  gone  crazed."  His  heart  sank  within  him 
Hnd  he  leaned  against  the  door  fc  support. 

"  Well !  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  go  in  at  any  rate !" 
and  he  went  in  accordingly,  much  quicker,  too,  than 
he  intended,  for  the  door  having  been  but  partially 
fastened,  gave  way  before  the  pressure  of  his  weight, 
and  he  would  have  gone  in  head  foremost  had  not 
hia  fall  been  broken  by  the  goodly  bulk  of  And,^ 
Dwyer,  who  fortunately  stood  ne'r  the  door  at  th&t 


232 


CON  o'kkoan  ;  OR, 


particular  moment.  PanVs  apology  -was  out  short  by 
t  le  welcome  apparition  of  Patsey,  who  sat  munching 
a  huge  slice  of  bread  and  butler  at  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room. 

"  The  Lord  be  praised !"  was  Paul's  first  exclama- 
tion; "so  he's  alive  an'  wtll  after  all."  And  the 
poor  man  sinking  into  a  seat,  was  unable  to  utter 
another  word.  His  eyes  wandered  from  Patsey  to 
Nora,  who  stood  brandishing  a  rod  in  front  of  the 
young  culprit,  the  latter  regarding  her  and  it  with 
infinite  coolness  and  self-possession.  Andy  Dwyer 
heaTcd  a  deep  sigh  just  at  Paul's  elbow. 

"  Ah !  Paul,  Paul !"  said  he,  "  this  is  a  bad  busi- 
ness 1" 

"  What  is  ?"  demanded  Paul ;  "  sure  it  isn't  as  bad 
as  we  expected,  after  all." 

"Isn't  it,  indeed?"  cried  Nora,  turning  almost 
fiercely  on  her  husband ;  "  an'  what  do  you  think 
of  that  young  vagabond  there  squaring  himself  at 
me  when  I  took  the  rod  to  whip  him  ?  I  was  so 
glad  to  see  him  at  first  that  I  run  an'  give  him  a 
piece  of  bread,  the  young  rascal !  but  when  I  began 
to  question  him  about  where  he  was,  an'  couldn't 
get  any  satisfaction  from  him,  I  took  down  the  rod, 
an'  threatened  to  give  him  a  good  floggin'  if  he  didn't 
tell  me  what  he  was  aboui  all  the  afternoon.  But 
sure  it's  what  he  began  to  laugh  at  me,  an'  made  a 
.  motion  as  if  he'd  strike  me.  Andy  Dwyer  ther« 
ean  tell  you  that  as  well  as  I  can." 


)gy  •was  cut  short  by 
f,  who  sat  munching 
at  the  opposite  side 

Paul's  first  exclama- 
,fter  all."  And  the 
w&H  unable  to  utter 
ired  from  Patsey  to 
rod  in  front  of  the 
ing  her  and  it  with 
sion.  Andy  Dwyer 
8  elbow. 
"  this  is  a  bad  buai- 

"  sore  it  isnH  as  bad 

ora,  turning  almost 
what  do  you  think 
squaring  himself  at 
'hip  him?  I  was  so 
;  run  ail'  give  him  a 
I !  bat  when  I  began 
he  was,  an'  couldn't 
;  took  down  the  rod, 
id  floggin'  if  he  didn't 
the  afternoon.  But 
rh  at  me,  an'  made  a 
Andy  Dwyer  ther« 
ui." 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


233 

and 


Andy  was  silent,  but  he  shook  his  head 
heaved  another  sigh  still  deeper  than  the  first. 

"  Very  good  1"  said  Paul,  nodding  at  Patsey,  who 
began,  by  this  time,  to  look  rather  blank ;  "  very 
good,  my  lad  !— I'll  settle  with  you,  by  and  by !  I'll 
give  you  such  a  thrashin'  that  you'll  mind  it  the 
longest  day  you  have  to  live — I'll  go  bail  for  it 
you'll  never  turn  hand  or  tongue  on  your  mother 
fur  the  time  to  come ! — make  haste  an'  finish  that 
bread  you're  eatin'." 

Patsey  began  to  blabber,  and  somehow  iastead  of 
making  haste  to  swallow  the  last  of  the  bread,  the 
masticatory  process  went  on  slower  than  ever.  It 
was  obstructed,  too,  of  course  accidentally,  by  divers 
convulsive  motions  in  the  throat,  as  though  Patsey'a 
breath  was  growing  very  short  indeed.  Ever  and 
anon  he  cast  a  furtive  glance  on  his  father,  who  had 
now  taken  possession  of  the  rod.  Andy  tamed 
away  to  hide  a  smile. 

"  Make  haste,  I  tell  you  I"  repeated  Paul ;  "  but, 
that's  true,  Nora,"  turning  to  his  wife,  "  did  the 
young  rap  tell  you  where  he  was?" 

"  Not  a  word  I  could  get  but  of  him,"  sa't*.  the 
poor  mother.     "  I  tell  you  again  it's  what  he  iuugh- 
ed  at  me." 
"Was  your  boy  with  him,  Andy?"  denria/'.ad 

Paul. 

"  Yes,  yes,  the  fellow  walked  in  to  us  just  /'  hiB 
mother  was  telling  me  in  a  great  fright  abo-/  him 
being  away.    I  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  f.<  gel 


..  ai...,»,l  ., IngUJiU 


234 


CON  o'reoan  ;  OR, 


out  of  him  where  they  were,  but  at  laat  I  made  him 
tell.  It  seems  they  were  part  of  the  time  playing 
with  some  other  boys  about  the  streets,  but  at  last 
they  got  into  a  beer-cellar  down  here  in  Elm  street, 
where  there  was  a  couple  of  darkies  boxing  for  a 
wager,  and,  of  course,  nothing  would  serve  my  lads 
but  they  must  wait  to  see  the  battle  decided.  But 
I  think  I  gave  Terence  what  will  fix  the  beer-cellar 
and  the  darkies  on  Lis  mind.  If  he  ever  forgets  it. 
I'll  be  out  in  my  reckoning,  that's  all." 

"And.  so  that'll  where  they  were,"  said  Paul, 
"  while  I  vas  runnin'  here  and  there,  from  post  to 
pillar,  in  search  of  them,  till  I  was  just  ready  to 
drop  with  the  weakness  an'  the  fear  that  was  on  me. 
So  it  was  lookin'  at  two  darkies  boxiu'  you  were, 
my  lad " 

"  Yes,  father,"  said  Patsey,  brightening  up  at  the 
recollection,  •'  and  I  guess  you'd  like  to  have  seen 
it  yourself  if  you  had  the  chance.  Don't  you  mind 
when  you  and  Tom  Derragh  and  all  the  rest  used  to 
be  talking  about  how  well  you  could  box  ? — well  I 
guess  you  never  seed  a  handsomer  spell  than  that 
was !  I  tell  you  the  darkies  pitched  into  each  other 
first  rale." 

"Now,  Paul!"  cried  Nora,  "juEt  listen  to  that 
vagaboue  ! — I'm  blest  an'  happy  if  he  wasn't  imila- 
tin'  the  darkies  when  he  squared  an'  shook  his  fidts 
tXme  B.  while  ago." 

"No,  I  wan't,  mother,"  eaiS  the  young  soape* 
grace,  stoutly,  "  for  it  a'nt  manly,  folks  say,  to  strike 


KlUfiHANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


23& 


i  at  lagt  I  made  him 

of  the  time  playing 

streets,  bat  at  last 

I  here  ia  Elm  street, 
arkies  boxing  for  a  - 
ould  serve  my  lads 
attle  decided.     But 

II  fix  the  beer-cellar 
f  be  ever  forgets  it, 
t's  all." 

were,"  said  Paul, 
there,  from  post  to 

was  just  ready  to 
fear  that  was  on  me. 
83  boxiu'  you  were, 

rightening  up  at  the 
M  like  to  have  seen 
36.  Don't  you  mind 
1  all  the  rest  used  to 
could  box? — well  I 
imer  spell  than  that 
ohed  into  eaoh  other 

"juEt  listen  to  that 
Y  if  he  wasn't  imita- 
d  an'  shook  his  fists 

A  the  young  scape* 
V,  folks  say,  to  strike 


A  woman     But  you  hadn't  ought  to  call  them  'ere 
ugly  names.    I  can't  stand  that,  no  how  !" 

"  Oun't  you,  indeed  ?"  said  his  father.  "  Can  you 
stand  this,  then  ?  and  this  ?  and  this  ?"  And  suit- 
ing the  action  to  the  word,  he  administered  an  extra 
dose  of  the  rod,  applying  it  in  a  most  effective  man- 
ner to  a  certain  fleshy  part  of  Patsey's  little  body, 
bared  expressly  for  the  occasion.  If  piteous  cries 
and  promises  of  amendment  could  have  stayed  the 
avenging  arm,  the  punishment  would  have  been 
light  indeed,  but  Paul  leant  a  deaf  ear  to  both,  nor 
stopped  till  he  had  given  Patsey  what  he  considered 
his  due.  Neither  Nora  nor  Andy  interfered,  both 
being  well  satisfied  that  he  "  deserved  all  he  got," 
but  Jane  and  Jim  were  vociferous  in  their  petitions 
for  mercy,  and  promises  that  he'd  "  never  do  it 
again."  "  Oh  father !  father  I  let  him  go  now— he'll 
never,  never  do  it  again  I— sure  you  won't,  Patsey  ? 
Oh !  mother !  mother !  won't  you  save  him  ?" 

"  No,  no,  children ! — ^I  can't  1— my  heart  aches  to 
see  him  gettin'  such  a  beatin',  but  it's  good  for  him, 
Jane  dear !— it's  good  for  him ! — he'd  go  to  the  devil 
entirely,  or  be  killed  on  us  some  day  like  poor  Peter 
if  we  let  him  go  on  any  longer !" 

At  length,  when  Patsey  was  released  with  an  in- 
junction from  his  father  to  "  be  sure  an'  run  away 
again  for  an  afternoon,  an'  get  into  a  beer-cellar  with 
the  darkies,"  Jane  and  Jim  followed  their  brother 
into  the  corner  where  he  hid  himself.  Jane  put  her 
arm  round  his  neck,  and  Jim  took  hold  of  his  hand, 


236 


CON    o'RBOAN  }   OR, 


crying  all  the  time  as  though  he  had  had  his  shart 
of  the  correction.  Bat  Patsey  was  sullen  and  would 
not  be  comforted.  To  every  kind,  consoling  word 
of  Jane's,  \q  only  answered  :  "  Never  mind — when 
I'm  a  man  they  shan't  use  me  so  1 — I'll  go  where  I 
like,  and  do  just  ab  I've  a  mind  to." 

"  Oh,  Patsey  1"  whispered  Jane,  in  terrified  ac- 
cents, "  dou't  talk  so— father  will  hear  you  !" 

"  I  don't  care  if  he  do,  Jane !— he  needn't  have 
used  me  so  ! — it  a'nt  an  wonder  that  folks  talk  so 
of  Irish  Paddies !— they '      -eal  meau  !" 

Meanwhile,  Paul  and  Ins  wife  were  discussing  in 
a  low  voice  with  Andy  Dwyer  the  pernicious  in- 
fluence of  bad  example,  as  exemplified  in  the  case 
before  them.  Paul  and  Nora  were  filled  with  grati- 
tude for  the  great  mercy  of  God  in  their  regard,  in* 
asmuch  as  they  were  about  to  escape  with  their  chil- 
dren from  the  polluted  thoroughfares  of  the  city, 
while  Andy  bemoaned  the  hard  fate  which  chained 
him  to  the  spot. 

"  However,"  said  he,  rising  and  taking  his  hat, 
'*  we  must  only  do  the  best  we  can,  and  leave  the 
rest  to  God.  I  suppose  He'll  make  it  all  right  in  the 
end  if  we  only  do  our  duty  wherever  He  places  ns. 
Patrick  I"  said  he,  addressing  the  dark-browed  boy, 
"  I  hope  this  will  be  a  useful  lesson  to  you  all  your 
life,  and  that  your  father  will  never  have  to  punish 
you  BO  again.  What  could  induce  you  to  do  each  a 
thing  ?" 

"  Why,  you  see,  Terry  tmd  me—" 


n'^iV-^"* 


le  bad  had  Lis  share 
vaa  sullen  and  would 
;ind,  coDSolmg  word 
'  Never  mind — when 
80  1 — I'll  go  where  I 
to." 

ane,  in  terrified  ao- 
ill  hear  you  I" 
i  I — he  needn't  have 
er  tliat  folks  talk  so 
meau !" 

'e  were  diecuasing  in 
>,r  the  pernicious  in- 
tmplified  in  the  case 
rere  filled  with  grati- 
)d  in  their  regard,  in- 
scape  with  their  ohil- 
ighfares  of  the  city, 
1  fate  which  chained 

and  taking  his  hat, 
'6  can,  and  leave  the 
lake  it  all  right  in  the 
lerever  He  places  ns. 
he  dark-browed  boy, 
isson  to  you  all  yo\ir 
never  have  to  punish 
luce  you  to  do  sach  a 

ae » 


EMIOBANT  I.IFB  IN  THE  NBW  WORLD. 


231 


«•  Terence,  if  you  please,  Patrick !" 
"  Well !  you  see,  Terence  and  me  and  Job  Easton 
and  Bill  Black  were  all  playing  marbles  on  tiae  side- 
walk, just  along  by  that  'ere  cellar-door,  and  we  saw 
all  the  folks  a-running  in,  and  we  ran  like  the  rest  to 
see  what  it  was.  And  when  we  saw  the  darkies 
stripped,  jest  a-going  to  fight,  says  Terry  to  me, 
says  he:  'Patsey,  I  guess  we'll  see  it  out.'  And 
says  I, '  all  right,'  so  we  staid  till  the  fight  was  over, 
and  that's  all.    I'm  sure  it  wan't  any  great  harm !" 

«'  Not  a  word,  now  1"  said  his  father,  angrily ;  "not 
a  word,  or  111  give  you  another  touch  of  the  rod. 
ril  show  yoQ  it  loas  harm,  and  great  harm,  too  !-^o 
oflf  to  your  bed,  this  minnit,  and,  Jane,  see  that  he 
says  his  prayers.  Make  him  say  them  out  loud  so 
that  youll  be  sure." 

"  Well,  now,  Andy  !"  said  Mrs.  Bergen,  "  aren't 
you  in  a  great  hurry?  Can't  you  sit  awhile,  now 
that  we've  got  a  little  peace  ?" 

»  Oh,  no  !  I  must  be  going,  Mrs.  Bergen.  Poor 
Alice  gets  lonesome  when  Pm  out  too  long.  I  tell 
you,  Paul !"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whis- 
per ' "  you  have  need  to  look  after  that  same  boy  of 
yours.  If  you  don't,  mind  my  words,  you'll  have 
trouble  with  him !  Don't  take  it  ill  of  me  to  say  bo, 
either  of  you,  but  you  know  Pm  rearing  a  fami  y 
myself  and  I'd  be  thankful  to  any  one  that  would 
tell  me  of  their  faults  before  it  was  too  late." 

«  And  we  arc  thankful  to  you,  Andy,"  said  Paul, 
in  the  same  tone,  while  Nora  began  to  rook  herself 


188 


CON   O'REOAir  ;   OR, 


to  and  fro,  as  was  usual  with  her  in  any  fresh  ao* 
cession  of  sorrow  ;  "  we  are  thankful  to  you,  Andy, 
for  your  good  advice.  Do  you  know  I  often  thought 
the  same  myself,  for  there  seems  to  be  something 
very  dark  and  very  rough  in  Patsey  above  all  the 
rest.  Howsomever,  if  we  only  had  him  away  from 
here  we  might  get  along  better  with  him." 

"That's  my  notion,  too,"  said  Andy,  "  but  now  I 
mast  wish  you  good  night." 

"  Good  night,  Andy,  an'  safe  hom«  to  you !" 


-  -'  \  •j*.';Kt''^  ••^/i^e^^fllk'B!^" 


iis 


^wr'^^"!'^*^^''"^ 


MWBAKT  LIFE  IK  THB  NEW  WOBLD. 


339 


r  in  any  fresh  ao- 
iful  to  you,  Andy, 
ovr  I  often  thought 
9  to  be  Bomelhing 
tsey  above  all  the 
ad  him  away  from 
ith  him." 
\n(?y,  "but  now  I 

)m«  to  yon !" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
For  the  first  few  weeks  after  Winny's  departure, 
Mr.  Coulter  had  a  hard  time  of  it.     What  with 
Winny's  supposed  ill-conduct  and  the  shelter  af- 
forded her  by  the  Mis.  s  Coulter,  which  was  done 
through  pure  spite,  as  she  alleged,-"  for  nothing  in 
the  world  but  to  annoy  Acr,"-Mr8.  Coulter  had  ac- 
quired a  fresh  supply  of  ammunition  wherewith  she 
kept  up  a  running  fire  on  her  husband  as  often  as  he 
placed  himself  within  gunshot  of  her,  which,  to  say 
the  truth,  was  as  seldom  as  possible.    Now,  it  was 
nothing  but  the  meanness  and  rascality  of  the  Irish, 
the  singular  taste  that  some  people  had  for  having 
them  about  them;  again,  it  was  the  mean  spiteful- 
ness  of  old  maids,  who  had  nothing  better  to  do 
than  teazing  and  annoying  their  neighbors.     As  a 
general  thing  Mr.  Coulter  would  listen  in  silence, 
answering  only  by  an  occasional  "  Humph,"  or  "  Do 
tell.  Prudence!"   or  some  such  exclamation;   but 
once  or  twice  he  was  so  nettled  by  the  contemptu- 
ous allusion  to  his  sisters  that  he  could  not  keep 
•ilenoe. 


^m^ 


'53'^fc'^r-*^^^?^**^*'*******^"^ 


140 


ooN  o'hioan  ;  OR, 


'  Why,  Prudenoti  !  my  dear,  you  needn't  tarn  np 
year  nose  so  at  old  maida  I  I  know  somebody  and 
BO  do  you,  too,  that  was  very  near  being  one  herself 
— so  near,  indeed,  that  a  year  or  two  would  bsvo 
raised  her  to  the  dignity  of  the  upper  shelf,  where 
she  might  have  withered  all  her  life  '  on  the  virgin 
thorn,'  if  it  hadn't  been  for  somebody  else  that  came 
along  just  in  time.  If  my  sisters  are  old  maids,  they 
wear  their  age  respectably,  so  let  me  hear  no  more 
on  that  subject." 

There  was  a  singular  energy  and  determination 
about  Mr.  Coulter  on  such  occasions  that  his  wife 
never  dared  to  brave,  so  she  was  fain  to  suspend 
operations  for  a  more  favorable  opportunity,  and  fall 
back  upon  a  dignified  silence. 

But  the  attack  was  sure  to  be  renewed  very  soon 
again,  and  Mr.  Coulter,  sick  and  tired  of  the  ever- 
lasting topic,  determined  to  make  a  bold  effort  on 
behalf  of  Winny's  reputation,  and  to  fathom  the 
secret  of  the  allegations  brought  against  her,  if  mor- 
tal man  could  do  it.  Lest  the  reader  might  be  dis- 
posed to  give  the  old  gentleman  too  much  credit,  we 
must  admit  that  his  desire  to  get  rid  of  the  unceas- 
iag  taunts  and  insinuations  of  his  wifu  had  at  least 
as  much  to  do  in  his  praiseworthy  resolution,  as  his 
strict  sense  of  justice,  strengthened  as  it  was  by 
gratitude. 

"  If  I  can  only  get  that  old  man  off  ray  back,"  said 
he,  as  he  took  a  neatly-folded  paper  from  his  escru- 
toire,  "  I'll  bo  as  happy  as  ever  Sinbad  was  to  got 


you  needn't  tarn  np 
know  somebody  and 
ar  being  one  herself 
or  two  would  hovo 
B  upper  shelf,  where 
r  life  '  on  the  virgin 
)body  else  that  came 
8  are  old  maids,  they 
et  me  hear  no  more 

r  and  determination 
asions  that  bia  wife 
nras  fain  to  suspend 
opportunity,  and  fall 

B  renewed  very  soon 
d  tired  of  the  ever- 
ike  a  bold  effort  on 
and  to  fathom  the 
t  against  her,  if  mor- 
reader  might  be  dis- 
too  much  credit,  we 
et  rid  of  the  unoeas- 
bis  wifu  had  at  least 
,hy  resulution,  as  his 
hened  as  it  was  by 

in  off  my  back,"  said 
iper  from  his  escru- 
'  Sinbad  was  to  got 


MIOBANT  urn  IM  THK  NEW  WORLD. 


241 


rid  of  his  burden.  Now,  Dr.  Richards  1  my  man, 
now  comes  the  tug  of  war  I  I'll  just  step  over  to 
his  office  to  pay  him  this  bill  which  he  sent  mo  a 
couple  of  days  ago,  and  I'll  see  if  I  can't  get  some- 
thing out  of  him  that  may  serve  m  against  Pru- 
dence." 

So  bustling  along  in  his  quick,  business-like  way, 
he  stepped  into  Dr.  Richards'  elegantly  furnished 
office,  where  he  happily  found  the  doctor  alone. 
The  compliments  of  the  morning  being  interchanged, 
the  doctor  laid  down  the  daily  paper  whioh  he  had 
been  "  just  glancing  over,"  he  said,  on  Mr.  Coulter's 
taking  out  his  pocket-book  and  handing  over  the 
bill  to  be  receipted. 

"  There's  the  amount,  doctor ;  I  believe  you'll  fnd 
It  correct." 

"Quite  so,  Mr.  Coulter,"  pocketing  the  roll  of 
bills ;  "  I'm  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  Not  at  all,  doctor ;  not  at  all.  I  owe  you  more 
than  money  can  pay  for  having  restored  my  little 
Rachel  to  life  when  I  thought  her  almost  gone. 
Between  you  and  Winny,  you  made  s  good  job  of 

it." 

"  Ah  yes!— Winny !"  repeated  the  doctor;  "Win- 
ny is  a  good  nurse,  Mr.  Coulter — a  very  good  our^e, 
indeed.  She  could  make  a  very  good  living  out  of 
that  very  thing,  and  I  offered  to  recommend  oer  to 
my  patients,  but  she  wouldn't  hear  of  it,  sir— wouldn't 
hear  of  it,  at  all    Strange  enough,  wasn't  it  ?" 

«« Why,  doctor,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  "  I'm  only  sur- 


212 


CON    O  REGAN  ;   OR, 


prised  at  yoar  making  ber  each  an  offer — you  thai 
knew  BO  much  about  ber." 

"  Who — I  ?"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  startled  tone ; 
"  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Coulter,  /  know  nothing  about 
the  girl  one  way  or  the  other,  except  what  I  saw  of 
her  in  your  house.    Who  sa.id  I  did  ?" 

"  Why,  my  wife,  Mrs.  Prudence  Coulter,  did,"  re- 
turned the  humorous  old  gentleman,  with  the  cool- 
est composure.  "  She  made  very  serious  «llegatioi  ' 
against  poor  Winny,  and  referred  me*  to  you  as  Her 
authority.  I  have  been  very  busy  ever  since,  and 
the  affair,  I  knew,  could  wait,  so  I  gave  myself  no 
farther  trouble  about  it  at  the  time;  but  now  that 
I  have  a  quiet  opportunity  of  talking  to  you  in  pri- 
vate, I  would  thank  you,  doctor,  to  let  me  know 
exactly  what  you  have  to  say  against  Winny." 

At  this  the  doctor  winced  a  good  deal,  and  his 
bold,  glittering  eye  sank  before  the  k-en  glance  of 
his  interrogator.  A  very  faint  blush,  or  something 
like  it,  mounted  to  his  cheek,  and  he  could  only  re> 
peat  in  a  dogged  tone : 

"  Why,  I  have  already  told  you,  Mr.  Coulter,  that 
I  have  nothing  to  say  to  the  girl.  What  should  I 
know  about  such  people  unless  they  come  before  me 
in  the  way  of  business,  and  I  assure  you  that  is  as 
seldom  as  I  possibly  can.  It  is  my  interest,  sir,  to 
keep  clear  of  the  Irish  lest  my  practice  should  suffei' 
if  I  were  known  to  go  much  amongst  them." 

"  Ahem !"  said  Mr.  Coulter ;  "  that  is  all  very  dig- 
nified, doctor,  and  very  becoming  in  •  fashionable 


h 
tl 
ir 


no 

a] 
ei 

it 
tl 
Ic 
n 

V 

a 
b 
ir 
b 

t( 

y 

d 

h 

y 


9R, 

1  an  offer — you  that 

,  in  a  startled  tone ; 
know  nothing  about 
xcept  wbat  I  saw  of 
[  did  ?" 

ace  Coulter,  did,"  re- 
[eman,  with  the  cool- 
ry  serious  «llegatior  " 
ed  me*  to  you  as  Her 
busy  ever  since,  and 
30  I  gave  myself  no 

lime;  but  now  that 
alking  to  you  in  pri- 
tor,  to  let  me  know 
gainst  Winny." 
i  good  deal,  and  his 
3  the  k^en  glance  of 

blush,  or  something 
ind  he  could  only  re- 

'OUjMr.  Coulter,  that 
;:rl.     What  should  1 

they  come  before  me 
assure  you  that  is  as 
is  my  interest,  sir,  to 
practice  should  suffei' 
[nongst  them." 

"  that  is  all  very  dig- 
uing in  •  fashionable 


KMIORANT  LIFE  IM  THE  HEV  WORLD. 


213 


physician,  but  it  does  not  answer  mi/  question. 
What  has  Winny  O'Regan  done  to  you  that  you  en- 
deavor to  blacken  her  character  ? — Endeavor^  I  say, 
doctor — mark  the  word!  for  I  tell  you  there  is  no 
chance  of  your  succeeding.  Winny's  character  ia 
beyond  suspicion." 

Here  the  doctor  started  to  his  feet  and  clenched 
his  fist  as  though  he  would  have  struck  the  old  gen- 
tleman who  sat  looking  at  him  with  such  a  provok- 
ing smile.  "  What  has  she  done  to  me  ?"  he  cried, 
"  the  termagant,  the  vixen !  what  could  she  do  to 
me  ? — no  doubt  she  has  been  telling  a  plausible  story 
about — about — pshaw !  what  a  fool  I  am  ?"  he  add- 
ed, pettishly,  as  he  pushed  his  chair  from  him. 

"  Keep  your  seat,  my  dear  sir  !"  said  the  provok- 
ingly  calm  Mr.  Coulter;  "I  am  not  going  just  yet, 
though  I  hope  I  shall  soon.  Sit  down,  doctor,  and 
let  us  talk  the  matter  over  in  a  quiet,  friendly 
way.  Now,  you  know,  my  dear  sir,  Winny  is  a 
very  good-looking  girl,  and  it  is  no  great  wonder  if 
a  fine  rollicking  young  fellow  like  you  should  have 
been  casting  a  stray  glance  that  way  now  and  then, 
in  the  tempting  privacy  of  the  sick-room.  Don't 
blush,  doctor,  we  are  all  of  us  mortal,  and  have  little 
tender  instincts  planted  within  us,  doubtless  for  a 
wise  purpose.  Now  I  see  as  plainly  as  can  be  that 
you  and  Winny  had  a  little  tiff— exeuse  the  word, 
doctor,  and,  in  the  heat  of  the  moment,  you  went  and 
told  Mrs.  Coulter  what  yon  were  sorry  for  when 
yoa  cooled  down.    Now,  doctor,  don't  you  think  I 


S44 


CON   0*Rt(3AN  ;   OK, 


ean  gueu  as  well  as  any  one  if  I  only  try.    Ton 
have  just  been  making  some  little  experiments  on 

Wiuny's  virtue " 

"  And  so  have  you,  at  one  time  or  another,  I'll  be 
Bworn,  my  old  chap !"  swd  the  doctor,  losing  his  ha- 
bitual caution. 

"  I  deny  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  firmly  and 
coldly,  and  he,  too,  stood  up;  "I  was  never  addict 
ed  to  such  pursuits,  and  if  I  had  been,  Winny 
O'Regan  would  have  Jifien  the  last  woman  living  I'd 
think  of  in  any  such  way,  for.  Doctor  Richards  1  there 
is  that  about  Winny  which  would  repel  the  advances 
of  any  but  a  hardened  libertine.  That  girl,  s-r,  h  as 
pure,  both  in  mind  and  body,a8  the  drifting  sncw, 
and  you  know  it  as  well  as  I  do,  if  you'd  only  say 
80.     Good  morning,  doctor !— good  morning  1" 

The  old  gentleman  bowed  stiffly  and  was  moving 
away  when  the  doctor,  recovering,  all  at  once,  his 
habitual    presence  of  mind,  hurried    before    him 

saying : 

"  Allow  me,  Mr.  Coulter !"  then  added  before  he 
turned  the  bandle,  "  I  trust  we  are  none  the  worse 
friends  for  what  has  passed,  and  I  am  sure  you  are 
too  generous  to  seek  to  injure  me  in  my  practice  by 
giving  undue  importance  to  a  mere  idle  jest." 

"  Hum !  jest,  indeed !"  repeated  the  other,  snap- 
pighly—o  a  fine  jest  truly,  and  a  harmless  oise— very  1 
^let  me  pass,  doctor — will  yon  ?" 

"  Well,  but,  Mr.  Coulter,  you  will  oblige  me  by 
saying  nothing  of  what  has  passed  between  us  1" 


OR, 

I  if  I  only  try.    Ton 
Utile  experiments  on 

ime  or  another,  I'll  be 
B  doctor,  losing  bia  ba- 

.   Coulter,  firmly  and 
"  I  was  never  addict 
•  I  bad  been,  Winny 
I  last  woman  living  I'd 
5octor  Richards  1  there 
uld  repel  the  advances 
le.    That  girl,  s'.r,  h  as 
y, as  the  drifiing  sn; w, 
I  do,  if  you'd  only  say 
-good  morning !" 
stifily  and  wos  moving 
vering,  all  at  once,  bis 
,   harried    before    him 

then  added  before  be 
we  are  none  the  worse 
and  I  am  sure  you  are 
re  me  in  my  practice  by 
a  mere  idle  jest." 
>eated  the  other,  snap- 
1  a  harmless  one — ^very  1 
ron?" 

you  will  oblige  me  by 
>aBBed  between  us  1" 


BMICRANT  UFK  IN  THE  NKW  WORLD. 


245 


"  As  far  as  Mrs.  Coulter  is  concerned,  I  will  make 
no  such  promise.  Winny,  too,  must  hear  how  the 
matter  stands.  As  for  any  one  else  hearing  of  your 
little  peccadilloes  from  me,  you  needn't  fear,  doctor 
— I  have  something  else  to  mind  besides  retailing 
choice  bits  of  scandal— I  leave  that  to  your  pious 
folk,  Doctor  Richards.  Good  morning  to  you!— 
Excuse  my  tresspassing  on  your  time!"  and  with 
the  same  tantalising  smile  on  his  thin  puckered  lips, 
and  the  same  cool,  keen  irony  in  his  full,  manly 
tones,  away  bustled  Mr.  Coulter,  leaving  the  doctor 
to  his  meditations,  which  were  anything  but  agree- 
able in  their  nature  at  that  particular  juncture. 

Mr.  Coulter  made  it  a  point  to  be  home  early  to 
dinner  that  day,  so  early,  indeed,  that  Mrs.  Coulter 
was  taken  quite  aback,  and  thought  it  necessary  to 
apologize.  The  dinner  was  not  quite  ready  yet, 
that  tiresome  Eve  was  so  slow.  There  was  really 
no  such  tLIug  as  getting  along  with  her. 

Mr.  Coulter,  which  was  rather  unusual  with  him, 
declared  himself  in  no  hurry,  he  could  wait  a  little 
while,  provided  it  were  not  too  long.  "  As  to  Eve," 
said  he,  "  she  is  one  of  your  own  choice,  my  dear, 
BO  I  have  nothing  to  say  between  you.  When  you 
fiad  one  who  could  put  the  dinner  on  the  table  pre- 
cisely to  the  minute,  without  the  slightest  trouble 
to  you,  there  was  one  fault  and  another  constantly 
found  out  in  her— faults  that  nobody  saw  but  your- 
Belfj—you  never  stopped  till  you  got  rid  of  her.  So 
pray  let  me  hear  no  more  complaints  now  1" 


216 


CON  o'rroav  ;  OR, 


«  Wbj,  Samuel,  how  on  earth  could  I  put  up  witk 
Winny,  after  bearing  what  I  did  of  her  ? — you  are 
really  very  unreasonable !" 

•'  Not  a  bit  of  it,  my  good  Prudence,  not  a  bit  of 
it.  You  ought  to  have  known  Winny  better  than 
to  hearken  to  such  slanderous  stories  against  her. 
Did  you  ever  see  anything  improper  in  her  conduct 
or  deportment  ? — eh.  Prudence  ?" 

"  Well  I  of  course,  I  can't  say  I  ever  did,  but  then 
Doctor  Richards  found  out  something,  and  you  know 
there  was  no  possibility  of  his  being  mistaken." 

"  Was  there  not,  indeed  ? — I  tell  you,  Prudence, 
whether  he  was  mistaken,  or  whether  he  had  taken 
some  little  pique  against  Winny,  he  trumped,  up  the 
whole  story  out  of  his  own  imagination." 

"  Mr.  Coul  ter ! — you  as-ton-ish  me ! — Doctor  Rich- 
ards a  pique  against  Winny! — why,  how  on  earth 
could  you  think  of  such  a  thing  ?" 

"  Because  I  have  it  from  no  less  a  person  than  the 
dbctor  himself,  my  dear  I"  said  Mr.  (Suiter,  with  an 
exutling  smile,  and  a  nod  to  match,  "  that  is  to  say, 
I  fished  the  precious  secret  out  of  the  miry  pool 
where  it  lay  in  his  heart — not  with  his  will,  Mrs 
Coulter,  you  may  be  sure.  Are  you  aston-is/iecl  now, 
my  dear?" 

"  Well,  after  that,  nothing  will  ever  astonish  me 
again — nothing !  But  do  tell  me,  Samuel !  what  you 
have  discovered  I' 

"  I  will,  if  you  promise  to  say  nothing  about  it,  for 


i 


OR, 

h  eould  I  put  ap  witk 
lid  of  her  ? — jou  are 

'rndence,  not  a  bit  of 
n  Winny  better  than 
s  stoi'iea  against  her. 
)roper  in  her  conduct 

3?" 

Y  I  ever  did,  but  then 
ething,  and  you  know 
being  mistaken." 
[  tell  you,  Prudence, 
hether  he  had  taken 
y,  he  trumped,  up  the 
igination." 

;h  me ! — Doctor  Rich- 
-why,  how  on  earth 
?" 

ess  a  person  than  the 
Mr.  (youlter,  with  an 
atch,  "  that  is  to  say, 
ut  of  the  miry  pool 
t  with  his  will,  Mrs 
you  aston-islied  now, 

■■ill  ever  astonish  me 
le,  Samuel !  what  you 

r  nothing  about  it,  for 


F.MIGRA.S-T  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


2a 


I  had  to  promise  not  to  speak  of  it  except  to  you  and 

Winny." 

Mr.  Coulter  well  knew  that  such  a  promise  was 
sure  to  be  kept  for  fear  of  disgracing  the  conventicle 
which  rejoiced  in  the  membership  of  the  worthy  doc- 
tor. So,  having  received  the  promise,  he  repeated 
to  his  wife  his  previous  conversation  with  Dr.  Rich- 
ards, and  when  she  had  heard  all,  she  held  up  her 
hands  in  utter  amazement. 

"  Well !  I'm  sure  no  one  ever  could  have  thought 
of  such  a  thing!  Dear  me !  I  shall  never  like  that 
Dr.  Richards  again!— though,  after  all,  Samuel,  we 
must  not  be  too  harsh  in  our  judgment  on  an  erring 

brother " 

"Brother  me  no  brothers,  Prudence !"  cried  hei 
husband ;  "  the  man  is  no  brother  of  mine,  and  never 
shall  be,  please  the  fatet  "  I'd  rather  have  a  decent 
Hindoo  for  a  brother !— I  would,  by  Jupiter !" 

Mr.  Coulter  seldom  swore,  but  when  he  did,  he 
took  good  care  to  make  his  oath  as  imposing  as  pos- 
sible, without  actually  blaspheming  the  name  of  God, 
for  which  he  had  a  certain  degree  of  respect.  "  Now, 
Prudence!"  said  he;  as  his  wife  rang  the  bell  to 
"hurry  up"  the  dinner,  "now.  Prudence,  my  dear 
wife,  I  wish  you  to  understand  that  Winny's  reputa- 
tion is  clearly  restored— you  admit  that  fact— don't 

you?" 

«'  Oh !  of  course — I  know  you  never  state  a  false- 
hood." 

«  Well,  then !— that  point  is  settled  now  and  fof 


848 


co.v  o'kegak  ;  or, 


ever ! — I  am  to  hear  no  more  of  it  I^remembef 
that!"  ^- 

"  Why,  Samuel !  how  you  do  talk  I  Surely,  I 
cannot  tell  how  the  girl  may  conduct  herself  here- 
aller." 

"  That  is  not  the  question — we  have  only  to  deal 
with  the  past.     Winny  will  trouble  you  no  more,  so 
let  her  rest  in  peace,  as  Catholics  say  of  their  dead. 
Now,  then,  for  that  savory  soup  of  yours,  Pru- 
c'jiice."     Peace   thus   proclaimed   and  duly  estab- 
lished, the  rich  pea-soup  was  discussed  with  exqui- 
site gout,  Mr.  Coulter  observing  as  he  handed  back 
his  pUie  for  a  fresh  supply :  "  liest  in  peace,  indeed  ! 
— the  peace  of  the  grave  is  but  a  sorry  peace  after 
all.     For  my  part,  ilke   honest  Charley  Lamb,  '  I 
would  set  up  my  tabernacle  here.    I  am  in  love 
with  this  green  earth,'  and  have  no  hankering  after 
the  peace  or  happiness  of  that  spirit-land  of  which 
men  talk  and  write,  just  as  though  any  of  them  had 
ever  seen  it.     Pshaw !  this  smoking,  juicy  joint," 
and  he  plunged  the  fork  into  a  tempting  piece  of 
roast  beef,  "  is  worth  an  hundred  of  those  •  baseless 
fabrics,'  which  make   up  what  is  called  'revealed 
religion.'     Still,  they  are  all  very  well  in  their  way, 
especially  for  those  who  have  not  much  of  the  crea- 
ture comforts  here   below.     The  poor   people  of 
Ireland,  for  instance — no  wonder  they  have  such 
faith  in  things  unseen,  for  their  lot  here  is  weary 
enough." 

Such  was  the  usual  course  of  Mr.  Coulter's  semi 


;  OR, 
ore  of  it !— ^renaember 

1  do  talk  I    Surely,  I 
r  conduct  herself  here- 

— we  have  only  to  deal 
rouble  you  no  more,  so 
olics  say  of  their  dead, 
soup  of  yours,  Pru- 
imed  and  duly  estab- 
I  discussed  with  exqai- 
ing  as  he  handed  back 
Rest  in  peace,  indeed  ! 
but  a  sorry  peace  after 
Bst  Charley  Lamb,  '  I 
9  here.  I  am  in  love 
ive  DO  hankering  after 
.t  spirit-land  of  which 
lOugh  any  of  them  had 
smoking,  juicy  joint," 
>  a  tempting  piece  of 
Ired  of  those  '  baseless 
at  is  called  '  revealed 
ery  well  in  their  way, 
not  much  of  the  crea- 
The  poor  people  of 
mder  they  have  such 
leir  lot  here  is  weary 

)f  Mr.  Coulter's  semi 


EMIGRANT  I.IFK  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


249 


religious,  semi-philosophic  musings,  spoken  alond 
on  the  present  occasion  under  the  influence  of  the 
good  man's  sensible  satisfaction.  His  wife  listened 
Avilh  more  displeasure  than  surprise,  contenting 
herself  with  a  dissenting  shake  of  the  head,  and  a 
freezing  «'  Fie,  fie,  Samuel !  why  will,  you  talk  so  ?" 
Then  adroitly  changed  the  subject  to  one  of  more 
immediate  interest,  namely,  the  steady  improvement 
of  Rachers  health,  which  had  been  at  first  rather 
precarious. 

"  But,  Prudence  I"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  as  if  with 
sudden  recollection,  "  did  I  ever  tell  you  that  Con 
O'Regan  is  going  out  West  in  the  spring  f" 

"  Out  West  I — why,  no ! — how  can  he  go  out 
West  ? — what  is  he  going  to  do  there  ?' 

Mr.  Coulter  laughed.  "  One  question  at  a  time, 
my  dear,  \iyou  please." 

"  Well !  but,  Samuel,  what  is  he  going  to  do  ?" 

"  Why,  to  settle  on  a  farm,  to  be  sure  ? — what  else 
would  he  do  ?" 

Mrs.  Coulter  began  to  look  very  grave,  and  fixed 
a  penetrating  glance  on  her  husband.  "And  the 
money  f — how  is  he  to  get  a  farm  anywhere?  Farms 
a'nt  got  for  nothing,  I  reckon." ' 

"  Sometimes  they  are,  but  Con  don't  need  that, 
My  sisters  are  going  to  advance  him  whatever  sum 
is  necessary  till  such  time  as  he  can  repay  it." 

»•  Oh  I  your  sisters !"  said  the  lady,  with  a  some- 
what inoredalous  air ;  '  that  is  always  the  excuse 
A  likely  story,  truly !" 


T 


250 


CON   O^RBGAN  ;   OR, 


s 

{ 


"  Prudence !"  aaid  the  husband,  with  one  of  his 
sternest  looks,  "  do  you  mean  to  doubt  the  truth  of 
what  I  tell  you  ?" 

"  Oh !  of  course  I  don't,  Samuel.  I  should  be 
very  sorry,  indeed  ;  but,  then,  one  cannot  help 
thinking,  you  know,  how  exceedingly  convenient  it 
is  to  have  sisters  with  such  ample  funds  at  their  com- 
mand I" 

"  It  is  certainly  very  convenient  for  my  sisters 
themselves,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  sharply ;  "  I  should 
be  sorry  to  see  them  without  funds,  as  you  say,  de- 
pending on  you  or  me,  Prudence.  May  they  never 
be  reduced  to  that  position  !  But  let  that  pass — 
they  are  doing  what  I  tell  you  for  Con  O'Regan,  let 
their  funds  be  as  they  may." 

"  And  Winny  ?  I  suppose  they  are  sending  her, 
too  ?" 

"  Not  exactly  ! — I  dare  say  they  are  of  opinion 
that  Winny  would  find  prairie-life  rather  hard  for 
nwhile.  She  remains  with  them  till  her  brother's 
wife  and  children  come  out  from  Ireland,  next  year 
or  so — then  they  will  all  go  together." 

"  Well !  I  have  only  to  observe,"  said  Mrs.  Coul- 
ter, as  she  rang  her  table-bell,  "  that  your  sisters  are 
extremely  free  with  their  money.  They  should  have 
been  born  Irish — they  are  so  improvident." 

"  Why,  Prudence  I  this  from  you  I  Can  it  be  ne- 
cessary to  remind  a  chosen  vessel  of  that  heavenly 
treasury  where  nuither  the  rust  nor  the  moth  dotb 
consume,  &o.  ?" 


t 


-  nttBa.'M«»«iB>*iffvsi 


BMI^^S^Ai^''-^ 


i;  OB, 

isband,  with  one  of  his 
n  to  doabt  the  trath  of 

Samnel.  I  should  be 
then,  one  cannot  help 
ceedingly  convenient  it 
nple  funds  at  their  com- 

ivenient  for  my  sisters 
,er,  sharply  ;  "  I  should 
t  funds,  as  you  say,  de- 
lence.  May  they  never 
I  But  let  that  pass— 
3U  for  Con  O'Regan,  let 

s  they  are  sending  her, 

ay  they  are  of  opinion 
rie-life  rather  hard  for 
them  till  her  brother's 
from  Ireland,  next  year 
together." 

>serve,"  said  Mrs.  Coul- 
1,  •'  that  your  sisters  are 
ney.  They  should  have 
I  improvident." 
[>m  you !  Can  it  be  ne- 
vessel  of  that  heavenly 
ast  nor  the  moth  dotb 


EHIQRANT  LIFE  i:^  THE  NEW  WORLD, 


251 


"  Pshaw ! — nonsense !"  cried  the  wife,  in  a  queru- 
lous tone,  detecting  in  her  husband's  unusually 
solemn  and  measured  acoents  the  slighest  possible 
imitation  of  her  favorite  preacher.  "  There's  a  time 
for  all  things.  I  don't  profess  to  understand  the 
sayings  or  doings  of  eccentric  persons,  and  I  beg 
you  will  say  no  more  on  the  subject.  I  am  not  suf- 
ficiently benevolent  to  be  consulted  in  the  very  be- 
nevolent whims  of  your  good  sisters.  I  shall  mind 
my  own  affairs — let  them  mind  theirs." 

"  All  right,  Prudence !  all  right  I — good-bye  now 
— ^I  must  be  off!"  and  waiting  to  hear  no  more,  the 
old  gentleman  hurried  to  the  hall  in  search  of  his 
hat  and  overcoat,  muttering  to  himself,  as  was  his 
wont:  "Speculative  charity  is  one  thing,  and  opera- 
tive charity  another.  I  rather  think  the  former  is 
the  more  fashionable  amongst  you  all  I  Humph ! — ■ 
eccentric,  indeed ! — I  wish  you  had  some  of  such  ec- 
centricity—just  a  little  more  of  the  milk  that  we  all 
wot  of  would  do  you  no  harm,  my  good  lady  !" 

About  the  same  time  that  Mr.  Coulter  was  going 
back  to  his  office,  little  Patsey  Bergen,  on  his  way 
to  the  afternoon  school,  overtook  Terry  Dwyer,  not 
far  from  the  sohool-house  door. 

"  Hillo,  Dwyer  I  is  this  you?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  guess  it  is.  Have  you  most  got 
over  your  whipping,  Patsey  ? — father  told  me  you 
bad  a  first-rate  one.  I  don't  know  how  you  felt,  but 
[  felt  real  sore,  I  tell  you  !" 

"  No  matter  how  I  felt,"  said  Patsey,  with  a  aud' 


feafc^rtftSgSMi&S^  ■  ■ 


T 


2hi 


CON  o'RcaAW ;  or, 


den  change  of  manner,"  I  a'nt  going  to  ha-e  another 
whipping  like  that." 

"Oh  I  I  know — you'll  be  a  good  boy  for  the  time 
to  come." 

"No,  I  won't— I'm  blowed  if  I  will !— but  if  ever 

father  undertakes  to  use  me  ao  again,  I'll ,"  he 

stopped. 

"  You'll  what  ?"  said  the  other,  in  breathless  ea- 
gerness. 

"  I'll  run  away  !— I  will !— I'll  clear  out  from  them 
altogether." 

'•  You  will,  eh  ? — and  where  will  you  go  to  ?" 

"  Never  you  mind  that,  Terry — I'll  go  where  they 
shan't  find  me.  Jake  Hampton  told  me  that  he  ran 
away  once  'case  his  father  wouldn't  give  him  any 
money,  and  after  he  was  gone  a  week,  he  came  right 
home  again,  and  the  old  folk  weYe  ever  so  glad  to 
see  him,  and  ever  sence  he  jest  gits  what  money  he 
wants  and  goes  wherever  he  has  a  mind  to." 

Dwyer  shook  his  head.  "I  wouldn't  do  it,  if  I 
were  you,  Patsey." 

"  There . — Patsey  again.  I  a'nt  a  going  to  have 
folks  call  me  so  any  longer." 

"And  what  am  I  to  call  you? — Patrick,  I  suppose, 
because  father  says  Patrick's  a  good  name." 

"  No,  it  a'nt  a  good  name !"  said  young  Bergen, 
stoutly;  "Patrick  ia  just  as  bad  as  Patsey,  and 
they're  both  the  same  as  Padhj.  Call  me  Bergen — • 
not  Patsey  or  Patrick.  Don't  you  see  how  I  call 
you  Dwyer  ev-er  since  yesterday,  'case  Henry  Clay 


^s«R 


r 


*',  OB, 

It  going  to  ha^e  another 

i  good  boy  for  the  time 

d  if  I  will ! — bat  if  ever 
le  »o  again,  I'll ,"  he 

other,  in  breathless  ea- 

-I'll  clear  out  from  them 

ire  will  you  go  to  ?" 
Brry — I'll  go  where  they 
)ton  told  me  that  he  ran 
wouldn't  give  him  any 
ie  a  week,  he  came  right 
Ik  wei-e  ever  bo  glad  to 
jest  gits  what  money  he 
)  has  a  mind  to." 
"  I  wouldn't  do  it,  if  I 

I  a*nt  a  going  to  have 

)u  ? — Patrick,  I  suppose, 
}  a  good  name." 
!"  said  young  Bergen, 
as  bad  as  Patsey,  and 
r/7y  Call  me  Bergen — 
m't  you  see  how  I  call 
;rday,  'case  Henry  Clay 


kmigra!;t  life  in  the  nkw  woRi.n. 


253 


Brown  said  Terry  was  a  nasty  Irish  name,  too,  just 
like  Paddy.  Now  mind,  you  call  me  Bergen,  and 
I'll  call  you  Dwyer— if  I  once  got  away  from  our 
folks  I'd  have  others  call  me  Jake  or  Jeff,  or  some 
such  pretty  name." 

"  Hush — h — h —  I"  cried  young  Dwyer,  as  he  opened 
the  door  of  their  school-room — "  come  along  in,  Pat- 
sey !" 

"  Patsey  !"  repeated  the  little  rebel,  knitting  his 
brows  together. 

"  Oh,  bother! — I  meant  Bergen  !— come  in  quick 
— I  guess  we're  late  I 

When  school  was  dismissed,  Terry  Dwyer,  on 
gaining  the  street,  looked  round  in  search  of  his 
friend  Patsey,  but  the  latter  was  nowhere  to  b» 
seen,  and  Terry  was  fain  to  hurry  home,  having  a 
salutary  fear  of  his  father's  muscular  arm  raised  in 
punishment.  He  was  jogging  along  home  whistling 
"  Dandy  Jim  from  Caroline,"  then  the  most  popular 
of  melodies  in  all  American  cities,  when  out  popped 
Patsey's  curly  head  from  an  archway,  and  after  it 
canne  inttanter  the  burly  little  figure  of  the  owner, 
accompanied  by  the  identical  Jake  Hampton,  whose 
example  he  had  triumphantly  cited  in  the  morning. 
Hampton  lounged  away  in  another  direction,  leav- 
ing our  young  friends  to  "  wend  their  homeward 
way"  as  tlfey  chose. 

"  Well,  Bergen !  what's  in  the  wind  now  ?"  said 
Terry,  with  a  knowing  smile. 

"  Why,  Jake  has  just  been  a-telling  me  as  how  A« 


Attjtwaa^wEsg- 


251 


CON  o'hkoan  ;  OR, 


T 


woulJn't  go  to  that  faraway  place  where  uncieliveg, 
if  he  were  me.  He  says  he's  sure  it's  a  rum  sort  of 
place,  for  he  heard  his  old  Uncle  Ben  say  so.  There's 
only  buffaloes  and  Irishmen  there,  folks  say,  and  if 
a  boy  wanted  to  run  away  he  couldn't  do  it,  nohow. 
It  a'ut  a  bit  like  here,  Jake  says." 

"Well!  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said 
B  wyer,  musingly,  "  but  I  guess  you'd  better  go  with 
your  folks,  wherever  thxy  go.  At  any  rate,  you'd 
better  say  nothing  of  the  kind  at  home,  or  you'll 
catch  it." 

"Aha!"  laughed  Patsey,  "I  a'nt  so  green  as  that. 
I  know  a  thing  or  two."  And  so,  with  a  farewell 
nod,  ho  turned  a  corner  in  the  direction  of  his  homa 


■MIGRANT  Lirr.  lH  THE  NBW  WORLD. 


9M 


y  place  where  unoieltvei, 
's  sure  it's  a  rum  sort  of 
ncle  Ben  say  so.  There's 
1  there,  folks  say,  and  if 
le  couiJn't  do  it,  nohow, 
says." 

lything  about  it,"  said 
ess  you'd  better  go  with 
',0.  At  any  rate,  you'd 
kind  at  home,  or  you'Jl 

"  I  a'nt  so  green  as  that. 
And  so,  with  a  farewell 
le  direction  of  his  homa 


CHAPTER  XV. 

DnRWo  all  this  time  Paul  Bergen  and  his  wif« 
were  anxiously  looking  out  for  an  answer  from 
Pelix,  now  fearing  that  he  might  change  his  mind,  or 
that  some  untoward  accident  might  occur  to  frnB- 
trate  their  cherished  hopes,  now  endeavoring  to  an- 
ticipate the  contents  of  the  expected  letter,  and  lay- 
ing down  plans  for  procuring  the  necessary  outfit. 
Even  the  presents  to  be  taken  to  Felix  and  his  wife 
were  not  forgotten.  Fearful  of  being  led  into 
temptation  at  so  critical  a  juncture,  Paul  was  most 
careful  in  avoiding  all  those  whose  company  he  had 
found  dangerous  in  times  past.  Dances  and  raffles 
he  gave  up  altogether,  taking  care,  however,  to  give 
whatever  he  could  afford  at  the  time  in  aid  of  the 
charitable  purpose  for  which  either  was  got  up. 
Many  a  sneer,  and  many  a  bitter  taunt  he  had  to  en- 
counter in  the  course  of  this  long  probation,  but  as 
he  used  to  say  to  Nora,  or  Andy  Dwyer :  "  It's  my- 
self that  has  the  fine  broad  back  to  bear  it  all,  and  I 
can  let  them  laugh  as  long  aa  they  like  when  my 
ooDScienoe  tells  me  I'm  in  the  right.    '  Thej  may 


-•'*^ses<aMesBjsaSk«si'^***»»''******«**^*''^'  " 


156 


CON  o'rfoan  ;  OB, 


laugh  that  win,'  is  an  old  saying,  and  maybe  I'll" have 
the  laugh  in  the  long  run.  If  Felix  keeps  in  the  same 
mind,  an'  sends  for  us  as  he  promised,  I  can  snap  my 
fingers  at  them  all." 

Meanwhile,  he  had  contrived,  by  the  closest  eco- 
nomy, to  save  some  fifteen  or  twenty  dollars,  which 
was  to  "  help  with  the  outfit,  if  they  were  going  in 
the  spring,  as,  please  God!  they  would." 

Leaving  them  to  enjoy  the  mingled  hope  and  fear 
of  their  expectant  state,  let  us  see  how  Con  O'Kegan 
employed  his  time  while  waiting  for  the  coming 
spring.  He  bad  obt  ed  a  situation  as  storeman  in 
a  wholesale  liquor  store  not  far  from  ihe  new  estab- 
lishment of  Coulter,  Pirns  ^  Co.,  and,  at  first,  he 
thought  he  had  been  very  fortunate,  inasmuch  as 
most  of  the  hands  employed  about  "  the  concern" 
were  countrymen  of  his  own.  It  is  true  their 
manners  and  even  their  appearance  were  rather 
against  the  snpposition,  but  then  their  names — why, 
Burely,  Tom  Houlahan,  and  Fliil  Byrne,  and  Larry 
Smith,  must  be  Irish,  else  how  did  they  come  by  such 
patronymics?  TesI  these  three  were  certainly  his 
own  countrymen.  That  was  very  clear  to  Con,  and 
he  treated  them  from  the  first  in  quite  an  easy,  fami- 
liar way,  very  different  from  the  involuntary  re- 
straint which  marked  his  intercourse  with  the  others. 
After  a  few  days,  however,  he  became  somewhat 
doubtful  as  to  the  "  birth  and  breeding"  of  his  com< 
panions  with  the  old  Celtic  names.  Their  lineage 
was,  of  course,  unmistakeable,  but  that  was  small  com 


fort 

tion 

mac 

to,  1 

min 

rigl 

as  ; 

thai 

to 

slid 

and 

oug^ 

dire 

a  b 

but 

Chu 

or  d 

oft 

pan 

or" 

but, 

The 

and 

for 

to  ( 

ofr 

Thii 

gra( 

lunt 

coa 


T 


and  maybe  I'll' have 
ix  keeps  in  the  same 
lised,  I  can  snap  my 

by  tlie  closest  eco- 
enty  dollars,  which 
they  were  going  in 

would." 

igled  hope  and  fear 
e  how  Con  O'Regan 
ng  for  the  coming 
ktion  as  storeman  in 
from  the  new  estab- 
!/0.,  and,  at  first,  be 
anate,  inasmuch  as 
30ut  "  the  concern" 
It  is  true  their 
ranee  were  rather 
I  their  names — why, 
[  Byrne,  and  Larry 
i  they  come  by  such 
I  were  certainly  his 
•y  clear  to  Con,  and 

quite  an  easy,  fami- 
the  involuntary  re- 
irse  with  the  others. 

became  somewhat 
ceding"  of  his  com* 
nes.  Their  lineage 
.  that  was  small  com 


KMIGKAXT  MFB  IN  THE  NEW  WOULD. 


251 


fort  to  Con.  He  found  out,  to  his  great  mortifica- 
tion, that  Tom  Houlahan  laughed  at  all  religion,  and 
made  it  his  boast  that  he  "  did  just  as  he  had  a  mind 
to,  and  didn't  care  a  chaw  of  tobacco  for  priest  or 
minister."  Every  man,  according  to  Tom,  had  a 
right  to  live  as  well  and  as  long  as  he  could,  and 
as  for  a  future  state  of  reward  or  punishment, 
that  was  "  all  a  sham,  intended  by  lying  preachers 
to  get  money  out  of  folks'  pockets  nice  and 
slick."  Such  was  Houlahan's  creed.  As  for  Smilli 
and  Byrne,  they  had  a  sort  of  notion  that  they 
ought  to  be  Catholics,  and  would  never  make  any 
direct  attack  on  the  Papists  or  "Romanists"  aa 
a  body,  which  was  quite  common  with  Houlahan, 
but  still  they  never  went  the  length  of  going  to 
Church,  laughed  at  the  idea  of  going  to  confession, 
or  depriving  the  body  of  any  comfort  for  the  good 
of  the  soul.  They,  each  of  them,  had  one  or  other 
parent  living,  and  would  admit  that  the  "  old  man" 
or  "  the  old  woman"  went  to  Church,  "  and  all  that," 
but,  as  for  themselves,  that  was  quite  another  thing. 
They  were  too  tired  after  the  week's  work  to  get  up 
and  go  to  Mass  on  Sunday  mornings.  They  letl  that 
for  the  old  folk,  who  had  nothing  else  to  do  but  go 
to  Church  and  pray.  As  to  the  sacred  obligations 
of  religion,  they  seemed  to  know  little  and  care  less. 
This  was  all  very  new  and  very  strange  to  Con,  who, 
gradually  finding  out  his  first  mistake,  began  invo- 
luntai'ily  to  shrink  into  himself,  and  to  observe  his 
companions  wii'*  a  sort  of  painful  curiosity.    They 


158 


cos  o'rkgan  ;  or, 


were  all  more  or  lees  addicted  to  profane  language , 
strangely  sounding  oaths  and  imprecations  were  fa- 
miliar to  their  lips.    Iloulahan  was  the  worst,  as 
might  well  be  expected  in  a  man  who  boasted  of 
having  no  faith.    The  sacred  name  of  God  and  the 
accursed  name  of  Satan  were  all  the  same  to  him, 
and  both  were  frequently  on  his  lips,  without  rever- 
ence for  the  one,  as  without  horror  of  the  other.    It 
was  one  of  his  proudest  boasts  that  he  had  been 
born  in  that  city,  "  he  was  a  native,  every  inch  of 
him,"  and  was  death  on  all  foreigners.    This  piqued 
'  Oon  not  a  little,  and  he  sometimes  forgot  himself  so 
far  as  to  retort  upon  Houlahan,  by  reminding  him 
of  his  parents,  who,  to  Tom's  indelible  disgrace,  bad 
been  "  mere  Irish." 

"  What  do  you  think  your  poor  father  and  mother 
would  say  if  they  heard  you  now,  Houlahan?" 

"  They  be  d— d !  what  care  I  what  they'd  say  ? 
If  they  hadn't  chanced  to  be  Irish,  I'd  have  been  a 
true-blue  American,  and  not  as  I  am,  a  half-breed 
sort  of  a  feller.     If  I  only  had  my  choice  I  wouldn't 

have  a  drop  of  Irish  blood  in  me.     No,  by !  I 

would  not." 

"  It's  a  pity  you  couldn't  get  new  blood  in  your 
»enis,"  observed  Con,  with  sly  humor;  «'if  I  was  in 
your  place  I'd  try,  at  any  rate." 

"  None  of  your  dry  jokes  now !"  would  Houlahan 
answer;  "  if  I  have  Irish  blood  in  my  veins,  I  a'ut 
a  confounded  Papist  like  you,  bending  the  knee  to 
•rossos  and  pictures  and  all  such  stuflf.     I'm  a  free- 


be 

m 

Wi 

Ih 
a 
ha 
an 

B; 

un 
or 

so 

Y 

be 

se 
ut 
mi 
fr. 
m: 
en 
ha 
ye 
fu 

BO 

Wl 

wl 

W( 

de 


d  to  profane  language , 
1  imprecations  were  fa- 
ban  was  the  worst,  as 
i  man  who  boasted  of 
J  name  of  God  and  the 
e  all  the  same  to  him, 
his  lips,  without  rever- 
horror  of  the  other.  It 
aasts  that  he  had  been 
a  native,  every  inch  of 
breigners.  This  piqued 
etimes  forgot  himself  so 
ban,  by  reminding  him 
'b  indelible  disgrace,  had 

•  poor  father  and  mother 
I  now,  Houlahan  ?" 
are  I  what  they'd  say  ? 
)e  Irish,  I'd  have  been  a 
)t  as  I  am,  a  half-breed 
ad  my  choice  I  wouldu't 
in  me.     No,  by !  I 

i  get  new  blood  in  your 

sly  humor ;  "  if  I  was  in 

ate." 

i  now !"  would  Iloulahan 

blood  in  my  veins,  I  a'nt 

roa,  bending  the  knee  to 

1  such  stuff.    I'na  a  free- 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WOULD. 


259 


born  American,  my  boy  !  and  have  no  master  but 
myself.  I  a'nt  any  of  your  mean-spirited,  old- 
womanish  fellers  as  go  to  confession,  and  count 
their  beads,  and  take  a  bath  of  holy  water  once  in 
a  while — to  cool  their  crazy  brains,  I  guess.  I 
ha'nt  got  anything  Irish  about  me  but  the  name, 
and  I'll  make  folks  forget  that,  by  jingo  !" 

It  sometimes  happened  that  either  Smith  or 
Byrne  would  take  up  the  cudgels  against  Tom, 
undertaking  to  call  him  to  account  for  his  anti-Irish, 
or  anti-Cp»h-.lic  tendencies.  Tom,  however,  would 
Boon  silence  them  with : 

"  Shut  up  there  !— You  have  no  right  to  talk. — 
You're  native-born  like  myself,  and  as  for  your 
being  Papists,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  I  never 
sets  any  one  down  in  black  and  white  as  a  Papist 
ubless  ho  goes  to  their  Church  regular.  Some  folks 
may,  but  I  don't,  so  I'll  give  you  credit  for  being 
free  citizens  like  myself,  if  you'll  only  keep  from, 
making  youraclves  out  what  you  are  not.  It's 
enough  for  O'Regan  to  talk  and  not  you.  He 
ha'nt  got  tbe  verdant  hue  of  •  ould  Ireland'  off  him 
yet,  and  his  religion  is  boiling  hot.  So  it's  good 
fun  talking  to  him,  and  trying  to  cool  him  down 
somewhat.  He's  a  good  feller,  is  O'Regan,  and  I 
want  to  wean  him  off  his  old  Paddy-ish  notions 
which  will  never  do  here." 

This  was  satisfactory  to  all  save  Con  himself,  who 
would  coolly  answer:  "It's  very  good  of  you,  in- 
deed, Houlahan,  to  take  so  much  trouble  on  my  ao- 


260 


CON  o'rkgan  ;  OB, 


oonnt,  but  you  needn't  mind.  I'm  too  old  a  bird  to 
be  caught  with  chaff,  and  as  to  your  weaning,  I'd, 
have  you  to  know  that  I  cut  my  eye  teeth  long  ago. 
So,  you  see,  there's  not  much  chance  of  ray  being 
weaned  now." 

This  would  call  forth  a  general  laugh,  but  Con 
was  proof  against  laughter  as  well  as  reproach,  and 
day  after  day  he  looked  with  more  distrust  on  those 
whom  he  had  at  first  singled  out  for  the  kindly  in- 
terchange of  friendly  sympathy. 

A  few  days  after  Con  entered  upon  the  duties  ot 
his  new  situation  the  feast  of  the  Purification  came 
round,  and  as  most  of  the  solemn  festivals  of  the 
Church  are,  in  those  parts,  postponed  to  the  follow- 
ing Sunday,  Con  knew  he  had  liberty  to  work  as 
usual.  Nevertheless  he  took  care  to  hear  Mass  the 
first  thing,  in  order  to  sanctify  the  day.  On  his 
way  home  he  met  Byrne,  who  asked  him  where  he 
had  been  so  early. 
"  I  was  at  Mass." 

"  At  Mass ! — the  deuce  you  were !— do  you  go  to 
Mass  every  morning  ?" 

"No,  indeed,  Phil!  I  do  not.  But,  you  know, 
this  is  the  feast  of  the  Purification— Candlemas  Day 
we  used  to  call  it  at  home,  and  it  was  always  a 
holyday  with  us.  So  I  thought  I'd  just  run  up  to 
the  Church  and  hear  Mass  before  Pd  go  to  my 

work." 

A  loud  laugh  was  Byrnb's  reply,  as  he  turned 
away,  but  he  waited  to  tell  Con  that  he  ought  to  put 


m 
w 

be 

fel 

Wi 

I 

fo 
alj 

m 
ac 
to 

lil 
ol 
ch 
th 
111 
hi 
w 
lit 

■a 


OB, 

I'm  too  old  a  bird  to 

,o  your  weaning,  VH, 

y  eye  teeth  long  ago. 

chance  of  ray  being 

neral  laugh,  but  Con 
well  as  reproach,  and 
lore  distrust  on  those 
>ut  for  the  kindly  in- 

y- 

ad  upon  the  duties  ot 
the  Purification  came 
demn  festivals  of  the 
stponed  to  the  follow- 
id  liberty  to  work  as 
care  to  hear  Mass  the 
Lify  the  day.  Ou  his 
Q  aaked  him  where  he 


I  were ! — do  you  go  to 

not.  But,  you  know, 
ation — Candlemas  Day 
I,  and  It  was  always  a 
ght  I'd  just  run  up  to 
before  I'd  go  to  ray 

's  reply,  as  he  turned 
)n  that  he  ought  to  put 


EVIGRANT  LIKE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


261 


on  petticoats  at  once.  "  My  old  mother  and  you 
would  make  a  famous  pair,"  said  he;  "I  warrant 
you  she's  been  to  Mass,  too,  this  morning.  For  my 
part,  Im  in  more  humor  of  sleeping  than  praying." 
And  a  gaping  yawn  confirmed  the  assertion. 

"  Why,  you  must  have  been  up  very  early !"  re- 
marked Coo,  endeavoring  to  repress  the  indignation 
ni»turally  excited  by  the  other's  insolent  taunt. 

"  Early  I  Ha  !  ha  I  I  gueaa  I  was,  for  I  ha'ut 
been  in  bed  all  night.  I  fell  in  with  a  set  of  jolly 
fellers  last  night  down  to  Bryan  Fitzsimmous',  und 
we  had  sncb  glorious  fun  that  we  kept  it  up  all  night. 
I  was  first  rate  while  it  lasted,  but  I  guess  I'll  pay 
for  my  share  of  it  all  day,  for  I  know  I  shan't  be 
able  to  keep  my  eyes  open." 

"  Well  I  well !"  said  Con,  "  I'm  sorry  you  haven't 
more  sense,  Phil.  You'd  better  hurry  home  now 
and  get  your  breakfast.  You'll  not  have  much  time 
to  spare." 

♦'  My  breakfast  1"  said  the  other,  with  something 
like  a  growl ;  "  yes,  if  I  can  get  it.  If  that  tarnation 
old  woman  ha'nt  it  ready,  she'll  catch  it  for  her 
church-goiug — I  swan  she  will  I"  And  so  saying, 
the  dutiful  son  hurried  away  a«  fast  as  his  tottering 
limbs  would  carry  him.  Con  stood  looking  after 
him  for  a  moment,  and  then  resumed  his  homeward 
way,  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh,  and  a  sense  of  humi- 
liation for  which  he  could  hardly  account. 

<*  Ab,  then !  God  help  the  mothers  of  the  world !" 
■aid  he,  within  himself;  "mr.ny'B  the  hard  dny  that 


1!' 

4i: 


B62 


OON  o'keoan  ;  OR, 


poor  woman  had,  rearing  you,"  apostrophiwog 
Byrne,  "  and  this  is  her  thanks  now !  .  Sure  enough, 
God  is  good  and  patient  when  He  lets  the  like  of 
you  go  on  from  day  to  day  and  from  year  to  year  ! 
Well!  it's  no  wonder  one's  heart  warms  to  poor  Ire- 
land, for  we'd  be  a  long  time  in  it  before  we'd  hear 
the  like  of  that." 

Before  many  hours  had  passed,  Con  bad  reason  to 
repent  of  having  told  Byrne  that  he  had  been  at 
Mass  that  morning,  for  Byrne  told  it  to  the  others  as 
a  capital  joko,  and  it  was  bandied  from  mouth  to 
mouth  all  the  forenoon,  till  happily  something  newer 
turned  up.  Con's  patience  was  sorely  tried,  and  he 
was  several  times  on  the  point  of  making  a  sharp 
retort,  but  then  again  he  would  think,  "  that  would 
only  make  matters  worse.  If  there  was  any  dis- 
turbance raised,  they'd  be  sure  to  lay  the  blame  on 
me,  and  I  haven't  Mr.  Coulter  here  to  take  my  part. 
God  grant  me  patience  with  these  fellows !" 

Byrne's  heavy  eyes  were,  of  course,  noticed,  and 
he  was  laughingly  called  upon  to  give  an  account  of 
himself— which  he  did,  nothing  loath,  well  knowing 
that  neither  ridicule  nor  censure  awaited  him.  It 
turned  out,  in  fact,  that  he  was  not  the  only  one 
who  had  gone  without  sleep,  for  Houlahan  had  been 
to  a  Native  Meeting,  which  had  carried  its  noisy  de- 
liberations far  into  the  night,  "  and  after  that,"  said 
the  narrator,  with  a  low  chuckling  laugh,  "  we  went 
some  here  and  some  there  in  search  of  amusemftnt. 
I  guess  it  was  near  morning  when  /  got  home,"  ha 


e 

0 

d 

t! 
ti 
T 

II 
w 

gf 

0{ 

fle 
mi 

HOI 

nn 

hit 

wl 

rei 

th( 

wc 

] 

bio 

wh 

wil 

wa 

lesi 

the 

of 


you,"  apostrophizing 
ksnow!  .  Sure  enough, 
lien  He  lets  the  like  of 
nd  from  year  to  year  1 
jart  warms  to  poor  Ire- 
B  in  it  before  we'd  hear 

ssed.  Con  had  reason  to 
e  that  he  had  been  at 
e  told  it  to  the  others  as 
>andied  from  mouth  to 
appily  Bomethiug  newer 
w&s  sorely  tried,  and  he 
loint  of  making  a  sharp 
)uld  think,  "  that  would 

If  there  was  any  dis* 
lure  to  lay  the  blame  on 
Br  here  to  take  my  part. 

these  fellows !" 

of  course,  noticed,  and 
in  to  give  an  account  of 
ling  loath,  well  knowing 
insure  awaited  him.  It 
}  was  not  the  only  one 
1,  for  Houlahan  had  been 
had  carried  its  noisy  de- 
t,  "  and  after  that,"  said 
ickling  laugh,  "  we  went 
in  search  of  amnsemfint, 
5  when  I  got  home,"  he 


KlIIORANi  LIFE  IN  THB  NEW  WORLD. 


263 


concluded,  "  so  I  tumbled  into  my  nest  for  an  hour 
or  two,  till  some  of  the  boarders  knocked  at  my 
door  and  told  me  breakfast  was  ready." 

This  was  all  very  intelligible,  even  to  Con,  with 
the  exception  of  two  words  which  required  explaua- 
liou.  "A  Native  Meeting!"  said  he;  "  ah  I  then, 
Tom,  what  kind  of  a  meeting  is  that,  if  you  please?" 


"Hear  the  greenhorn  now  how  he  talks 

r i_i         1  -«.  _ 


t» 


was 


Houlahan's  good-humored  answer;  "but,  I  guess, 
we  must  enlighten  him.  A  Native  Meeting  is  one 
got  up  to  keep  you  and  all  other  such  covies  in  your 
own  places.     Do  you  understand  ?" 

Con  did  understand,  though  not  until  he  had  re- 
fleeted  for  a  moment.  The  old  Milesian  blood 
mounted  to  his  cheek,  and  on  his  lips  was  a  oanstic, 
scathing  answer,  but  he  resolutely  kept  down  the 
unruly  spirit  and  drove  back  the  sharp  rebuke  into 
his  heart.  Biting  his  lips  till  they  were  almost 
white,  he  thanked  Houlahan  for  his  explanation,  and 
removed  himself  as  soon  as  he  poesibly  could  from 
the  hearing  of  whatever  might  pass  between  the 
worthy  friends  and  companions. 

Happily  for  Con  there  were  one  or  two  real  full- 
blooded  Americans  also  employed  in  the  store,  men, 
who  minded  their  business  and  nothing  else,  and 
with  them  he  usually  took  refuge,  when  his  patience 
was  well  nigh  exhausted  with  the  levity,  and  heart- 
lessness,  and  irreligion  of  the  others.  True  only  to 
the  light-hearted  and  somewhat  volatile  character 
of  their  race,  these  IrUh  Yankees  had  lost  every 


S«4 


CON  o'hioan  ;  OB, 


higher  and  more  noble  trait  of  tbe  peoplf/j^" 
w?om  they  Bprang.    The  genial  1^-dne.s  of  heart 
the  reverence  for  Bacred  and  venerable  things,  the 
respect  for  authority,  all  these  were  gone- 
"  Fled  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vUion, 
Leaving  no  trace  behitd." 
Ah!  little  indeed  do  the  generality  of  Irish  pa- 
rents think,  as  they  see  their  children  growing  up 
around  them  amongst  a  worldly  and  irreligious  peo 
pie.  of  the  fearful  gulf  which  passing  years  will  ore^ 
ate  between  them  and  their  offspring-a  gulf  which 
„iov  be  eternal !    Little  indeed  can  they  foresee  of  the 
evil  which  may  come  upon  themselves  because  ot 
those  very  children,  and  if  not  to  themselves,  un- 
doubtedly to  the  children,  when  they  are  gone  to 
another  world  to  render  an  account  of  the  manner 
in  which  they  discharged  their  parental  duties 

It  came  to  pass  after  a  Uttle  while  that  Con  closed 
his  ears  altogether  against  the  discourse  of  Houlahan 
and  the  two  gham  Catholics,  so  that  even  when  he 
chanced  to  be  near  them  he  heard  but  little  of  what 
they  aaid.  One  day,  however,  his  attention  was  ar- 
rested  by  the  name  of  Tom  Derragh,  accidentally 
mentioned  by  Smith. 

«  So  you  know  Derragh?"  said  Con. 

«  Why,  yes,  I  guess  I  do  !-we  ha'nt  been  a-board- 

ing  in  the  same  house  these  three  months  without 

my  knowing  him.     What  do  you  know  about  him  ?» 

«'  Oh !  not  much  since  he  came  to  this  country,  but 

we're  from  the  same  place  at  home." 


OB, 

of  Ibe  people  from 
ial  kindneBS  of  heart, 
venerable  things,  the 
were  gone — 
ric  of  a  vision, 

enerality  of  Irish  pa- 
children  growing  up 
lly  and  irreligious  peo 
passing  years  will  ore- 
ffspring— a  gulf  which 
can  they  foresee  of  the 
themselves  because  of 
not  to  themselves,  un- 
vhen  they  are  gone  to 
account  of  the  manner 
lir  parental  duties ! 
le  while  that  Con  closed 
e  discourse  of  Houlahan 
1,  flo  that  even  when  he 
heard  but  little  of  what 
3r,  his  attention  was  ar- 
a  Derragh,  accidentally 

'  said  Con. 

we  ha'nt  been  a-board- 

36  three  months  without 
0  you  know  about  him  ?" 
oame  to  this  country,  but 
it  home.'* 


KlilORANT  UFK  IN   THK  NETV  WORLD. 


9«ft 


"Tom'B  a  rum  customer,"  observed  Smith;  "at 
times,  you'd  think  him  a  first-rate  feller,  ready  and 
willing  to  help  on  the  fun,  up  to  everything  in  fact, 
.ind  neither  boring  himself  nor  others  with  any  of 
your  confounded  nonsense ;  the  next  time  you're  out 
with  him,  he'll  be  as  ticklish  as  a  young  colt,  afraid 
of  his  very  shadow,  and  preaching  up  religion  and 
sobriety,  nothing  less !  He's  for  all  the  world  like  a 
weather-cock — you're  never  sure  of  finding  him  one 
day  in  the  same  humor.  You  know  Derragh,  don't 
you,  Houlahan  ?" 

"  Know  him  ?"  said  the  other,  with  a  portentous 
shake  of  the  head  and  a  grim  smile ;  "  ay !  that  I 
do.  He  has  a  fist  like  a  sledge-hammer — he  has  ! 
We  quarrelled  once  down  to  Thomson  Dillon's,  and 
the  confounded  ass  gave  me  a  box  just  here  on  the 
bridge  of  the  nose  that  made  the  blood  flow,  I  tell 
you.  I  had  the  mark  of  that  blow  on  my  phiz  for 
weeks  afler  in  black,  blue,  and  yaller.  But  he 
didn't  have  it  all  for  nothing!"  he  added,  with  a 
scowl  of  gratified  revenge ;  "  Jim  Lawson  and  me 
fell  on  him,  and  I  reckon  we  grave  him  about  the 
worth  of  what  he  gave  me.  Oh  !  yes,  I  know  Der- 
ragh I — I  do !  and  a  d — d  scoundrelly  Pad^y  he  is 
too.  He  ha'nt  got  no  more  spirit  than  nothing. 
There's  Jason  Gallagher  as  was  working  with  him 
on  board  the  Pennsylvania  last  Fall— ask  him  what 
Tom  Derragh  is !" 

"  Ah  I"  said  Con,  within  himself,  "  isn't  it  hard 
for  any  one  to  keep  straight  among  such  lads  ai 


S6« 


CON  o'rroan  ;  OR, 


these!— how  could  poor  Tom  be  anything  e'.sef 
If  I  was  among  them  as  long  as  he  is  maybe  it's  far 
worse  than  him  I'd  be  !  God  keep  every  one  out 
of  harm's  way !" 

The  next  time  Con  met  Tom  Derragh  it  was  in 
Barney  Brady's,  where  he  went  with  Andy  Dwyer 
to  inquire  after  a  certain  Peter  Whelan,  who  was 
said  to  have  some  idea  of  going  out  West.    Peter 
was  from  the  same  parish  with  Barney,  and  had 
come  out  in  the  same  ship  with  him.     But  their 
paths  had  diverged  very  soon  after  landing,  Peter 
being  a  sober,  industrious  man,  given  to  saving 
money,  whereas  Barney  was  the  direct  opposite — a 
carelpss,    improvident,    good-natured    fellow,    who 
could  hardly  ever  let  one  dollar  overtake  another  in 
his  pocket.     Peter  was  known  to  have  some  hun- 
dreds of  dollars  saved,  for  he  had  but  a  small  family, 
and  his  wife  was  to  the  fall  as  careful  as  himself. 
His  little  savings  were  regularly  invested  in  the 
Savings  Bank,  where  interest  had  been  accumulat- 
ing on  interest  until  Peter  had  quite  a  nice  little  in- 
dependence, the  pride  of  his  own  and  his  wife's  heart. 
Latterly  he  had  taken  it  into  his  head    to  invest 
his  money  in  land  fir  the  benefit  of  himself  and  his 
three  boys,  who,  as  Peter  said,  "  will  be  gettin' 
young  men  or;  my  hands  some  of  these  days,  and 
they  may  as  well  be  workin'  for  themselves  out  on  a 
farm,  as  for  others  here  in  the  city  for  a  trifle  of 
wages  that'll  go  as  fast  as  it's  earned." 
Con  having  ascertained  Peter's  whereabouts,  said 


hi 
hi 

vc 
tb 

y 

fai 

m 

yc 

ou 
th 
of 

Bt( 

no 

thi 
an 

go 

ga 
tri 

C( 

ed 

tei 

fai 

ab 


;  OR, 

am  be  anything  else  f 
[  as  he  is  maybe  it's  far 
od  keep  every  one  out 

Fom  Derragh  it  was  in 
rent  with  Andy  Dwyer 
'eter  Whelan,  who  was 
[oiog  out  West.  Peter 
with  Barney,  and  had 
1  with  him.  But  their 
on  after  landing,  Peter 

man,  given  to  saving 
1  the  direct  opposite — a 
d-natured  fellow,  who 
Uar  overtake  another  in 
iwn  to  have  some  bun- 
)  had  but  a  small  family, 
1  as  careful  as  himself, 
yularly  invested  in  the 
St  had  been  accumulat- 
lad  quite  a  nice  little  in- 
own  and  his  wife's  heart, 
nto  bis  head  to  invest 
inefit  of  himself  and  his 

said,  "  will  be  gettin' 
ome  of  these  days,  and 

for  themselves  out  on  a 

the  city  for  a  trifle  of 

's  earned." 

eter's  whereabouts,  said 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IX  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


2«T 


bo  would  go  on  the  following  Sunday,  with  God's 
help,  and  see  him.     He  then  turned  to  Tom,  who 
w  as  smoking  and  lounging  lazily  with  his  elbow  on 
the  table  near  where  Peggy  sat  at  her  knitting. 
"  Why,  Tom,  there's  some  of  our  men  that  knows 


vnu. 


"  Very  likely  !"  said  Tom,  puffing  out  the  smoke 
faster  still.  "  There's  a  good  many  as  knows  me.  I 
guess  you  mean  Larry  Smith — don't  you  ?  He  told 
me  about  you're  being  there." 

"Yes,  and  Tom  IToulahan — a  great  friend  of 
yours!"  added  Con,  slily. 

"  He  be hanged  !"  said  Tom,  taking  the  pipe 

out  of  his  mouth  in  order  to  express  himself  with 
the  desired  energy ;  "  he  be  hanged  1  he's  no  friend 
of  mine,  nor  never  was — he's  as  big  a  rap  as  ever 
stood  in  shoe  leather." 

"  He's  a  Catholic,  is  he  ?  inquired  Con,  very  in- 
nocently. 

"  Is  it  Houlahan  ?"  said  Tom,  indignantly;  "why, 
the  fellow  has  no  more  religion  in  him  than  a  dog, 
and  he  hates  Catholics  as  he  hates — hunger!  He 
got  at  me  one  time  about  my  old  dad  being  in  pur- 
gatory, and  wanted  to  know  if  I  couldn't  spare  a 
trifle  to  the  priest  to  get  him  out.  Faith  he  did, 
Con,  that  very  Houlahan !  but  I  tell  you  I  answer- 
ed him  in  a  way  that  he  didn't  bargain  for.  I  flat- 
tened bis  big  nose  for  him,  and  made  him  anybody's 
fancy.  I  warrant  you  he  let  »«c  alone  ever  since 
about  religion — he  did  so,  for  he  found  it  was  th« 


SQg  COM    o'REOAN  ;    OR, 

best  of  his  play !"  And  Tom  resumed  hU  pipe  with 
great  self-complacency.  A  heavy  sigh  from  Peggy 
made  him  turn  quiclily  in  her  direction,  ^ 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  now,  Peggy  ?'  he 
asked  in  a  softened  voice. 

"  Oh  !  nothing  worth  speaking  of,"  said  Peggy,  m 
her  usually  subdued  tone—"  I  was  only  thinking  of 
the  quare  world  we're  in — that's  all." 

Tom  eyed  her  a  moment  in  silence  as  though  con- 
sidering what  her  words  might  mean,  but  Peggy'" 
meaning  lay  too  deep  for  his  penetration,  never  of 
the  keenest,  and  he  had  his  own  reasons  for  not  ply- 
ing her  with  questions.  He  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
and  then  he  said  to  Con  with  something  like  a  smile : 
"  I  don't  know  how  it  is.  Con !  but  somehow  I 
don't  feel  as  if  I  was  the  same  man  at  all  when  I'm 
here  with  Peggy  that  I  am  elsewhere.  The  very 
bight  of  her  always  sets  me  a  thinking,  and  I  get  a 
making  ever  so  many  good  resolutions  in  my  own 

mind ^" 

"  Ay  !  but  they  don't  last  long,"  said  Peggy,  with 
a  mournful  smile ;  "  you're  no  sooner  in  bad  com- 
pany again  than  the  good  resolutions  are  all  gone. 
An'  it'll  never  be  any  other  way,  Tom— I  tell  you 
that  plainly— till  you  keep  away  from  them  com- 
panions of  yours  altogether." 

"  But  how  could  I  do  that,  aianna !  when  our 
work  brings  us  together  ?    You  know  I  must  work 

or  starve." 
•'Nonsense,  Tom,  nonsense !— see  how  Con  O'Ro- 


OR, 

resumed  his  pipe  with 

savy  sigh  from  Peggy 

direction. 

rou  now,  Peggy  ?"  he 

ing  of,"  said  Peggy,  in 
[  was  only  thinking  of 
it's  all." 

silence  as  though  oon- 
;ht  mean,  but  Peggy's 
1  penetration,  never  of 
iv-n  reasons  for  not  ply- 
fas  silent  for  a  moment, 
something  like  a  smile : 

Con  !  but  somehow  I 
ae  man  at  all  when  I'm 

elsewhere.  The  very 
i  thinking,  and  I  get  a 
resolutions  in  my  own 

long,"  said  Peggy,  with 
10  sooner  in  bad  oom- 
esolutions  are  all  gone, 
way,  Tom— I  tell  you 
away  from  them  com* 

u 

hat,  alanna!  when  ou* 
rou  know  I  mast  work 

le !— see  how  Con  O'Re* 


EMIGRANT  LirS  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


969 


gan  doesn't  starve,  or  Andy  Dwyer  there,  or  thii 
very  Peter  Whelan  they  were  talking  of  a  while 
ago.  They're  all  working  men  like  yourself,  an' 
still  they  choose  their  company.  You  see  Con  is 
in  the  very  store  with  that  Houlahan  an'  Larry- 
Smith,  an'  how  well  he  doesn't  take  up  with  them. 
Oh,  no !  because  he  has  the  grace  of  God  about 
him,  an'  knows  he  can't  handle  pitch  without  dirty- 
ing his  fingers.  Shame  on  you,  Tom  Derragh, 
every  one  can  have  a  dacent  sperii  but  you.  But, 
God  help  you!  how  could  you  be  anything  but 
what  you  are— you  that  hardly  ever  crosses  a 
church  door  ?" 

"  Well !  I  suppose  it's  all  true  enough,  Peggy," 
said  Tom,  wincing  just  a  little,  "  but  don't  be  too 
hard  on  me  I  There's  some  of  it  your  own  fault, 
after  all,  and  you  know  that  well  enough." 

«'  My  fault!"  said  Peggy,  sharply  ;  "  what  do  you 
mean  by  that,  Tom  Derragh  ?" 

«'  Why,  if  you'd  only  do  what  you  ought  to  do, 
and  take  me  for  better  for  worse,  you'd  havo  it  all 
in  your  own  hands." 

"Indeed  then  I  wouldn't,"  said  Peggy;  with  a 
scornful  laugh;  "Pm  better  as  I  am,  an'  maybe  so 
are  you.  Pm  no  wife  for  anybody  now,  God  help 
me !  an'  you're  just  as  bad  on  the  other  side.  So 
there's  no  use  talkin'  that  way." 

"  There's  no  use  talkin'  to  you  at  any  time,  Peggy," 
said  Tom,  gruffly,  "  only  just  what  you  take  in  your 
own  head.    A  body  might  as  well  talk  to  the  wall." 


270 


CON  o'reoan  ;  OR, 


"  Just  as  well !"  echoed  Peggy,  who  was  already 
sinking  into  her  dreamy  abstraction.  Tom  looked 
at  Con  in  a  way  that  seemed  to  say  :  "  Did  you  ever 
see  such  a  strange  creature  ?"  Con  smiled  and  shook 
his  head,  as  much  as  to  say :  "  Between  you  be  it ! 
You  know  each  other  best !" 

The  truth  ia  that  he  was,  at  the  moment,  listening 
much  amused  to  the  conversation  going  on  in  tlie 
rear  between  Andy  Dwyer,  Barney  Brady  and  his 
wife.  Andy  had  been  lecturing  Barney  very  gravely 
on  his  wasteful,  improvident  habits,  Barney  sitting 
the  while,  as  it  would  seem,  on  the  stool  of  repent- 
ance, and  his  wife  enforcing  "  the  words  of  wisdom" 
by  an  occasional  ejaculation,  such  as  "That's  it, 
Andy !— that's  just  what  I  tell  him!"  "Ilal  ha! 
Barney,  do  you  hear  thai  ?"  "  Put  that  in  your  pipe 
and  smoke  it !"  Once  or  twice,  however,  Barney's 
patience  was  too  sorely  tested  by  this  joint  attack, 
and,  as  he  dared  not  rebel  against  Dwyer,  for  whom 
he  had  a  great  respect,  he  would  turn  short  on  bis 
wife  with : 

"  Shut  up  now,  Anty  !  I  want  to  hear  none  of 
your  Hngo !  Can't  you  let  the  decent  man  go  on 
without  breakin'  in  on  him  every  now  and  then  with 
your  nonsense  ?" 

"Just  so,  Anastasia,"  would  Andy  add,  "leave 
Bernard  to  me.  Bernard  knows  that  I'm  for  his 
good,  and  he'll  minu  what  I  say  to  him,  I  hope  in 
God.  He  will  walk  no  more  in  the  way  of  the  un- 
godly, or  frequent  the  company  of  sinners.     But  I 


y,  who  was  already 
ition.  Tom  looked 
ay  :  "Did  you  ever 
)n  smiled  and  shook 
Between  you  be  it ! 

e  moment,  listening 
on  going  on  in  the 
ney  Brady  and  his 
Jarney  very  gravely 
bits,  Barney  sitting 
Lbe  stool  of  repent- 
s  words  of  wisdom" 
iich  as  "That's  it, 

him!"  "Ilal  ha! 
ut  that  in  your  pipe 

however,  Barney's 
y  this  joint  attack, 
it  Dwyer,  for  whom 
I  turn  short  on  his 

It  to  hear  none  of 
decent  man  go  on 
now  and  then  with 

Andy  add,  "leave 
rs  that  I'm  for  his 
f  to  him,  I  hope  in 
the  way  of  the  un- 
of  sinners.     But  I 


EMIGRANT  UFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


211 


iee  my  friend  Cornelius  is  preparing  to  start,  so  I 
must  bid  you  good-bye.    Now,  Anastasia,  try  and 
have  a  little  more  patience,  remembering  always  that 
'a  soft  word  turneth  away  wrath,'  and  for  you,  Ber- 
naid,  let  the  taverns  alone.    When  your  day's  work 
is  over,  come  home  to  your  wife  and  your  little 
fanuly,  and  take  up  some  good  book  to  pass  the  time. 
The  devil  is  afraid  of  good  books,  Bernard,  lake  my 
word  for  it.    Just  do  what  I  tell  you,  for  a  few  even- 
ings, and  you'll  soon  get  a  heart-hatred  for  the  drink 
and  the  bad  company.     Good  night,  now,  Bernard ! 
—good  night,  Mrs.  Brady !— and  where's  Peggy?" 
Peggy  stood  up,  and  extended  her  hand  to  him  with 
a  smile;    "good  night,  Peggy,  w«  colketi  begl— 
if  we  were  all  like  you,  Peggy!  it  would  be  well 
for  some  of  ual"     So  nodding  to  Tom,  the  worthy 
man  followed  Con  down  stairs.    When  he  was  gone, 
Barney  and  Tom  exchanged  a  meanmg  glance,  and 
a  short,  significant  cough. 

"Bless  my  heart!"  said  Barney,  with  an  admo- 
nilary  motion  of  his  finger,  "  what  a  power  of  fine 
lingo  Andy  can  put  out.  It's  a  thoasand  pities  he 
didn't  get  on  to  be  a  priest.  I  dcdare  he  has  m« 
n'raost  convarled  from  them  '  ways  of  the  ungodly' 
thfit  he  was  talkin'  of.  Don't  you  think  I  look 
mighty  solemn,  Tom  ?" 

"As  solemn  as  an  owl  in  a  fir-tree,"  said  Tom; 
"and  sure  if  you're  not  convarted,  Bernard,  both 
you  and  Anastasia  there,"  mimicking  Andy's  tone, 
•••  it  isn't  Andy's  fault.     Next  time  I  come  I  expect 


ata 


CON  o'keoan  ;  OR, 


to  find  you  hard  and  fast  a  Thittk  Well  On  Jt,^  or 
Bome  other  good  book.  The  old  boy  is  afoard  of 
them,  it  seems,  so  if  you'll  only  hammer  away  at 
them  for  a  time  you'll  be  able  to  hunt  him  when  he 
comes." 

Barney  and  his  wife  both  laughed,  but  Peggy 
told  them  it  was  *'  a  shame  for  them  to  laugh  at 
any  such  ravin'  nonsense" — "go  off  out  of  this, 
Tom  Derraghi'  she  added,  angrily,  "it's  in  your 
bed  you  ought  to  be  at  this  hour  of  the  night,  an' 
not  helpin'  up  this  poor  foolish  man  here  to  make 
game  of  Aw  betters  an'  yours." 

Tom  attempted  to  apologize,  but  Peggy  would 
hear  nothing,  and  literally  drove  him  out  of  th« 
room,  telling  him  not  to  come  back  till  he  learned 
better  manners. 


OR, 


lUIORAN'T  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD 


313 


Think  Well  On  Jt;  or 
i  old  boy  is  afeard  of 
tnlf  hammer  away  at 
I  to  bant  bim  wbea  he 


1  laughed,  but  Peggy 
for  them  to  laagh  at 

■'•go  off  out  of  this, 

angrily,  "it's  in  your 
hour  of  the  night,  an' 

ish  man  here  to  ma4e 

pze,  but  Peggy  would 
Srove  bim  out  of  th« 
le  back  till  he  learned 


CHAPTER  XVL 

On  the  Ibllowing  Sunday  when  Con  O'Regan 
took  Paul  Bergen  with  him  to  see  Peter  Whelan, 
they  found  himself  and  his  wife  "  in  the  height  of 
trouble,"  as  they  said  themselves.  It  appeared 
that  the  Savings  Bank  in  which  Peter's  little  hoard 
was  invested  had  stopped  payment  .1  few  days  be- 
fore, and  nothing  oould  persuade  the  afflicted  cou- 
ple but  that  all  was  lost.  Andy  did  his  best  to  per- 
suade them  that  the  Bank  would  most  probably  go 
on  as  usual  after  a  temporary  suspension  of  pay- 
ment had  enabled  the  company  to  arrange  their 
affairs.  But  he  might  as  well  have  tried  to  reason 
with  tht  wind.  Mrs.  Whelan  would  hardly  hear  a 
word  so  great  was  her  indignation  against  "the 
robbers  that  lived  by  plunderin'  the  poor,  ridin' 
about  in  their  fine  carriages,  at  the  expense  of 
creatures  like  them  that  earned  their  money  hard 
and  sore.  And  God  knows  but  we  did  that !"  she 
added  with  a  burst  of  tears  that  came  from  her 
very  heart.  "There  wasn't  a  cent  of  ill-got  money 
in  them  five  hundred  dollars,  not  one  cent,  and  och! 
ooh !  but  that  poor  man  and  myself  toiled  many'a 


ST4 


CON    0  REGAN  ;   OR, 


i:,    ' 


the  day  and  begrudged  ourselves  a'most  the  bit  we 
ate  or  the  rag  Ave  wore,  so  as  to  keep  that  mouey 
together !" 

"If  we  had  only  had  the  good  luc.  '  said  Peter, 
a  thin  and  rather  care-worn  man,  *'  to  have  got  out 
of  this  unlucky  place  last  Fall  when  I  wanted  to  go, 
•we'd  be  all  right  now.  We'd  be  settled  by  this 
time  on  a  good  farm  of  our  own  that  no  villains  of 
bankers  could  take  from  us !  But  och !  och  !  that 
■wasn't  our  luck!  and  now  we're  just  as  if  we  never 
had  a  shillin.'  Black  poverty  is  on  us  again,  the 
Lord  in  heaven  help  us  1" 

"  Tut !  tut,  man  1"  said  Andy,  "  dca't  be  so  easy 
cast  down.  All's  not  lost  that's  in  danger,  you 
know.  Here's  Cornelius  O'Regan,  a  worthy  young 
friend  and  countryman  of  ours.  He  has  got  a  good 
chance  that  put  him  in  the  way  of  emigrating  out 
West,  and  he  heard  you  were  thinking  of  going. 
Not  a  word  now,  Peter,  if  you  please — I  know 
what  you're  going  to  say,  but  I  tell  you  that  you'll 
be  with  him  yet  with  the  assistance  of  God  !" 

"  I  wish  we  could !"  said  Peter  in  a  desponding 
tone,  "  but  there's  little  chance  of  it  now,  still  an' 
all  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Corny !"  and  he  shook  his 
hand  warmly,  as  did  also  his  wife.  "Since  luok 
seems  inclined  to  leave  us,  I'm  well  pleased  to  see  it 
•with  you.  A  week  ago  Mary  and  myself  were  full 
sure  of  being  off  in  the  soring  with  our  little  boys, 
but  now — ,"  bo  slopped  and  heaved  a  deep  sigh, 
then  added  quickly—"  but  what's  the  use  of  com- 


ll'k;' 


OR, 

I'ea  a'most  the  bit  wo 
to  keep  tbat  money 

id  luc-  '  said  Peter, 
in,  "  to  have  got  out 
vhen  I  wanted  to  go, 
d  be  Bettled  by  this 
'^n  that  DO  villains  of 
But  och  I  och !  that 
0  juat  as  if  we  never 
u  on  us  again,  the 

y,  "  dcn't  be  so  easy 
lal's  in  danger,  you 
gan,  a  worthy  young 
He  has  got  a  good 
\.y  of  emigrating  out 
a  thinking  of  going. 
y&u  please — I  know 
[  tell  you  thiit  you'll 
ance  of  God !" 
Iter  in  a  desponding 
le  of  it  now,  still  an* 
!"  and  he  shook  his 
wife.  "  Since  luok 
well  pleased  to  see  it 
and  myself  were  full 
with  our  little  boys, 
heaved  a  deep  sigh, 
at's  the  use  of  com- 


EMIGRANT  UFE  IN  THE  NEW  WOKLD. 


278 


I  plaining  ?  Sure  there's  nothing  can  come  on  us 
I  hut  what  Qod  ordains  for  us.  Dry  up  your  tears, 
I  Mary,  honey  I  and  see  if  you  can't  find  something 
for  us  to  drink.  I  suppose  you're  no  teetotaller, 
Corny  ?" 

"  Well  I  I  am !"  said  Con,  "  thongh  1  can't  say 

I  ever  took  the  pledge,  but  since  I  came  to  thia 

country  I  just  laid  it  on  myself  to  avoid  liquor 

altogether." 

"And  you're  so  far  right,"  said  Peter,  with  an  ap- 

I    proving  nod  to  his  wife.     "  It  takes  a  man  to  have 

I    all  his  wits  about  him  here  to  get  along  at  all,  and 

as  for  the  money  it's  a  short  way  it  goes  if  a  body 

once  gets  a  habit  of  tippling.     Oh !  there's  no  fear 

of  yo?<  but  you'll  do  well  wherever  you  go.    I  might 

have  known  you  were  a  decent,  sober  young  man, 

or  you  and  Andy  wouldn't  be  much  together." 

"  Well !"  said  Andy,  "  Pm  obliged  to  you,  Peter, 
for  your  good  opinion,  and  I  must  own  that  I  am 
rather  particular  in  chosing  my  company,  bearing 
always  in  mind  what  the  great  Apostle  Paul  tells  ua 
in  one  of  his  Epistles — I  forget  which  of  them,  in- 
deed !  that  '  evil  communication  corrupts  good  mo- 
rals.' But  you  must  excuse  us  now,  Peter,  for  my 
woman  made  me  promise  to  bring  Cornelius  here 
back  to  tea,  and  I  think  it  is  drawing  towards  even- 
ing. Good-bye,  Mrs.  Whelan  !  keep  up  your  heart, 
ma'am !  and  pray  to  God,  and  you'll  see  things  won't 
Ve  so  bad  with  you  as  you  expect." 
'     "  Well !  Qod  grant  it !"  was  the  pious  response 


»  f  OOK  o'rkgam  ;  OR, 

^ure  if  il's  Hit  holy  will  to  give  us  baok  oar  bard 
earniD*  again,  none  of  them  can  keep  it  from  us.  Bat 
ochi  I'm  afeard,  Andy  dear  !  that  there's  little 
ohance  !" 

"  There  may  be  more  than  you  think  now,"  said 
Andy,  looking  baok,  "  so  mind  and  don't  be  favnt- 
hearted !" 

Andy  spoke  against  his  own  convictions,  as  he  ac- 
knowledged to  Con  when  they  were  some  distance 
from  the  house.  "  If  they  do  get  a  share  of  it,"  said 
he,  "  I'm  afraid  it'll  be  a  very  small  one.  When  va- 
gabonds like  these  once  get  their  hands  closed  on 
the  money,  it'll  be  hard  to  get  it  out  of  their  olatohes. 
God  forgive  them  this  day,  and  may  He  open  their 
eyes  to  the  iniquity  of  robbing  the  industrious  poor  1 
But,  yon  see,  Cornelias !  this  is  only  another  proof 
that  land  is  the  best  thing  to  invest  money  iu. 
There's  no  bank  like  a  good  farm,  fur  there's  no 
bank  so  sure  bat  it  may  go  some  day,  whereas  the 
farm  can  never  faU,  if  a  man  only  takes  care  to  till 
it.  The  earth  will  always  bring  forth  its  fruit,  Cor- 
nelius, for  the  Lord  has  promised  that  seed-time  and 
harvest  shall  never  fctil." 

Con  listened  with  respectful  attention,  admiring 
the  dnpth  of  Andy's  wisdom,  and  thanking  God  at 
the  same  time  that  he  was  in  a  fair  way  of  having 
the  promise  realized  in  his  behalf.  Everything  he 
saw  and  heard  deepened  the  conviction  on  his  mind 
that  the  city  was  no  place  for  him  or  his,  and  he  be- 
gan.to  look  forward  with  eager  ezpeotation  to  th« 


'«ife; 


OR, 

^ive  us  baok  oar  bard 
I  keep  it  from  us.  Bat 
■  !   that  there's  little 

you  think  now,"  said 
1  and  don't  be  favnt- 

i  convictions,  as  he  ao- 
ly  were  some  distance 
get  a  share  of  it,"  said 
small  one.  When  va- 
tbeir  hands  closed  on 
it  out  of  their  olatcbes. 
ad  may  He  open  their 

the  industrioas  poor  t 
is  only  another  proof 

to  invest  money  iu. 
i  farm,  fur  there's  no 
3nve  day,  whereas  the 
>nly  takes  care  to  till 
ng  forth  its  fruit.  Cor- 
ised  that  seed-time  and 

ul  attention,  admiring 
and  thanking  God  at 
1  a  fair  way  of  having 
ebalf.  Everything  be 
sonviotion  on  his  mind 
him  or  bis,  and  be  he- 
;er  expectation  to  the 


SIIIGBANT  MFR  IN  THE  NEW  WOni.D. 


ill 


day  that  was  to  liberate  him  from  its  thralls,  and 
send  him  forth  to  breathe  the  pure  air  of  the  coun- 
try as  a  tiller  of  the  soil. 

"  This  packing  of  boxes  and  barrels  and  wheeling 
of  trucks,"  said  he  to  Winny*  when  he  went  to  see 
her  after  tea,  "  is  a  tiresome  thing  after  all,  and 
a  man  might  be  at  it  for  years  and  years  without  bet- 
terin'  his  condition.  When  I  get  on  the  farm,  I'll 
have  to  work  hard,  to  be  sure,  but  then  it'll  be  for 
myself  and  my  family.  There's  not  a  day's  work  3 
do,  but  it'll  be  so  much  before  me,  an'  besides  that's 
the  kind  of  work  that  I  like  to  be  at,  out  all  day  in  the 
open  air,  and  not  cooped  up  within  four  walls,  lis- 
tenin'  to  all  kinds  of  bad  discoorse,  an'  seein'  very 
little  that's  good.  I  wish  it  was  the  morrow  we 
were  to  start—but— but— "  he  hesitated  as  he  look- 
ed  at  Winny  and  saw  the  tear  gathering  in  her  eye. 

"  But  what.  Con  ?" 

"  Why,  nothing,  only  I'm  afeard  you'll  be  very 
lonesome  after  I  go,  till  such  times  as  Biddy  comes 

ont." 

"  Oil  i  never  fret  about  that,"  said  his  sister,  with 
forced  cheerfulness ;  "  how  did  I  do  before  you  came 
a  all— when  the  salt  ocean  was  betwixt  us  ?— but 
God  was  with  me  then,  and  hell  be  with  me  again 
when  1  have  no  one  else— blessed,  be  His  name  1" 

Many  little  matters  were  discussed  and  settled  on 
that  evening  during  the  two  hours  that  Con  staid, 
for  Iietty  was  gone  to  church  to  hear  a  great  sermon 
from  Mr.  Shillingworth,  which  the  ladies  would  not 


113 


CON    0  RKCAN  ;   OB, 


have  her  miss  for  anything.  Being  thus  freed  from 
the  restraint  of  her  presence  and  the  annoyance  of 
her  good-natured  officiousness,  the  brother  and  sister 
talked  over  everything  that  concerned  them— things 
past,  present,  and  future,  until  the  sound  of  the  door- 
bell apprized  them  of  the  return  of  the  Misses  Coul- 
ter and  Letty. 

"  My  stars !"  cried  Letty,  throwing  her  little  bulky 
body  heavily  on  the  first  chair  she  came  to  in  the 
kitchen,  "  my  stars  !  but  I  am  tired !— and  I'm  sure 
the  sermon  wan't  worth  much  after  all.  I'm  real 
sorry  I  went.  You've  had  such  a  nice,  quiet  chat 
here,  you  two.  I  a'nt  hardly  able  to  speak.  That 
tiresome  man  kept  us  so  long.  But  I  had  a  comfort- 
able nap  after  all,  only  for  that  I'd  have  felt  dreadful 
bad.  My  sakes  1  such  an  awful  sermon !  It  was 
two  hours  if  it  was  one  minute  I  Winny !  take  my 
bonnet  like  a  good  creature.  Well !  Con,  when  are 
you  going  to  start  ?" 

"  As  early  as  we  can  in  the  month  of  April,  Letty. 
They  say  the  canals  won't  be  open  sooner.** 

"  Oh,  of  course  they  won't.  But  have  you  every- 
ihing  ready,  Con  ?  and  how  many  of  you  are  going  ?" 

Con  laughed  as  he  replied :  "  I'm  sorry  I  can't  tell 
you,  Letty,  how  many  are  going,  baf  as  for  the  pre- 
parations, Tm  all  ready,  thanks  to  Winny  there  and 
6ome  other  body  that  gave  her  a  good  hand.  May 
the  Lord  reward  every  oue  that  assists  the  needy  I— 
and  He  will  reward  them  an  hundred-fold  in  the 
other  world." 


ling  thus  freed  from 
d  the  annoyance  of 
he  brother  and  sister 
serned  them— things 
le  sound  of  the  door- 
i  of  the  Misses  Coul- 

(ving  her  little  bulky 
she  came  to  in  the 
[red! — and  I'm  sure 
after  all.  I'm  real 
h  a  nice,  quiet  chat 
ible  to  speak.  That 
But  I  had  a  comfort- 
M  have  felt  dreadful 
il  sermon !  It  was 
I  Winny!  take  my 
rell !  Con,  when  are 

jnth  of  April,  Letty. 
en  sooner." 
But  have  you  every- 
y  of  you  are  going  ?" 
I'm  sorry  I  can't  tell 
,  but  as  for  the  pre- 
;o  Winny  there  and 
a  good  hand.  May 
assists  the  needy  1— 
hundred -fold  in  the 


EHicnANT  i.iFj  ;a  thb  new  WOBU). 


^..f 


"I  don't  know  as  to  that,"  said  Letty,  rathei 
thoughtfully,  "  but  let  it  be  as  it  may,  I  guess  it's  re- 
ward enough  for  one  to  have  the  pleasure  of  help- 
ing folks  when  they  stand  in  need  of  it.  I  don't 
want  any  other  reward.  As  for  them  'ere  future  re- 
wards, I  wish  wo  may  git  them,  that's  all,  but  they 
aint  sure,  so  they  don't  count  for  much." 

Winny  and  Con  exchanged  a  look  of  melancholy 
meaning,  but  neither  made  any  direct  reply,  for  ex- 
perience  had  shown  both  that  poor  Letly's  under- 
standing was  encased  in  a  double  crust  of  ignorance 
and  indifference  which  no  effort  of  theirs  could  pen- 
etrate. 

Con  soon  after  bade  the  girls  good  night  and 
went  on  his  way  musing  on  Letty's  hard  fate.  Her 
ignorance  of  ihe  simplest  elements  of  religion  was  to 
him  wholly  inexplicable,  considering  how  flippantly 
bhe  talked  of  ministers  p.nd  criticized  sermons. 
Alas!  he  knew  little  how  empty,  how  hollow  is  the 
theoretical  religion  which  Letty  had  heard  preached 
from  her  infancy— how  little  hold  it  has  on  tho 
heart,  how  little  impression  it  makes  on  the  mind. 
A  mere  chaos  is  the  thing  called  Protestantism,  dark 
and  void,  and  shapeless  like  the  original  nothing 
from  which  the  world  was  formed. 

Wincylaid  her  head  on  her  pillow  that  night  in  a 
more  desponding  spirit  than  was  usual  with  her. 
She  had  prayed  long  and  earnestly  for  the  spiritual 
and  temporal  welfare  of  her  brother,  yet  peace  did 
not  all  at  once  descend  on  her  troubled  spirit.    But 


280 


CON    0  REI-AV  ;   OR, 


ftnon  came  the  recollection  of  the  beauliful  title: 
Comfort  of  the  afflicted,  beatowed  by  the  Church  on 
"  Mary,  the  Mother  of  Jesus,"  and  the  thought  was 
aI^  oil  to  the  troubled  waters.  Deep  in  her  heart 
she  breathed  the  fweet  prayer  of  St.  Bernard,  be- 
ginning with  the  words,  "Remember,  oh  most  pious 
and  tender  Virgin,"  and  the  prayer  was  hardly  ended 
when  hope  lok  possession  of  Winny's  soul,  and 
tranquil  slum  ber  sealed  her  eyelids. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days  Con  O'Regan  heard 
that  Andy's  conjectures  were  right  as  regarded  poor 
Whelan's  loss.  The  Savings  Bank  was  found  wholly 
unable  to  resume  payment,  and  how  indeed  could 
it?  its  Directors  and  other  officials  had  i/een  for 
years  investing  its  capital  in  divers  speculations  on 
their  own  separate  accounts.  Many  o  '  these  Sj  ;ti- 
lations  had  been  a  dead  failure ;  the  main  ''apilai  of 
the  Bank  was  swallowed  up ;  whispers  \.  gone 
abroad  a^  to  bow  the  matter  stood  ;  a  run  fu.  iwed, 
and  then  came  out  the  terrible  truth.  Thonsands 
of  poor  people,  very  many  of  them  Irish  trade-iraen 
and  small  dealers,  were  left  penniless — the  savings 
of  years  melted  in  a  moment  before  their  eyes  into 
thro  air,  and  the  cry  of  sorrow  was  heard  in  many  a 
home  where  peace  and  contentment  had  lately 
reigned.  But  what  could  be  done?  How  were 
these  poor  deluded  thousands  to  obtain  redress  ? 
They  were  foreigners,  very  low  down,  indeed,  in  the 
■oale  of  social  importance,  while  the  robbers,  the 
swindlers,  were  at  its  very  summit.    "  Grave  and 


on, 

f  the  beauliful  title : 
ed  by  the  Church  oa 
and  the  thought  was 
Deep  in  her  heart 
of  St.  Bernard,  be- 
kember,  oh  most  pious 
ayer  was  hardly  ended 
)f  Winny's  soul,  and 
elids. 

8  Con  O'Regan  heard 
ight  as  regarded  poor 
Jank  was  found  wholly 
ad  how  indeed  could 
officials  had  <een  for 
Jivers  speculations  on 
Many  of  these  Sj  u- 
i ;  the  main  caniial  of 
;  whispers  1  gone 
tood  ;  a  run  tu  wed, 
)le  truth.  Thousands 
them  Irish  traduHraen 
lennilcsB — the  savings 
before  their  eyes  into 
-  was  heard  in  many  a 
Lentment  had  lately 
3  done?  How  were 
8  to  obtain  redress? 
V  down,  indeed,  in  the 
bile  the  robbers,  the 
ummit.     "  Grave  and 


KMIGRANT   MFE  IN  THB  KIW  WORLD. 


281 


reverend  signori,"  mightily  respected  in  the  com- 
munity, occupying  high  seats  in  their  respective  con* 
venticles,  and  noted  above  all  for  theiv  burnint^  zeal 
for  the  conversion  of  Jews,  Pagans,  Romanist  ind 
all  other  such  unrighteous  folk.  One  of  the  Direc- 
tors of  the  Bank,  who  was  likewise  one  of  the  chief 
defaulters,  presided  at  a  meeting  of  the  Home  and 
Foreign  Missionary  Society  on  the  very  same  even- 
ing that  saw  his  delinquency  published  in  the  '  ty 
journals.  But "  Dallon  was  an  honorable  man,"  none 
the  less  honorable  for  having  made  away  with  some 
fifty  thousand  dollars  or  so,  of  Irish  money.  What 
bad  the  Irish  serfs  to  do  but  make  money  to  do- 
posit  in  Savings  Banks  for  the  furtherance  of  mer- 
cantile enterprize  in  that  great  and  flourishing  city  f 
But  the  public  were  not  nil  of  one  mind  on  tUs 
subject.  Even  in  that  Pharisaical  nity,  and  amongst 
its  chief  citizens,  there  were  many  ,.  lo  sympathized 
deeply  with  the  poor  victims  of  this  wholesale  rob- 
bery, and  denounced  with  all  their  hearts  the  un- 
feeling hypocrites  who  thus  wasted  the  Hubstance  of 
the  poor.  Foremost  amongst  these  was  our  worthy 
frienu  Mr.  Coulter,  ■\^ho  keenly  felt  the  disgrace 
thus  entailed  on  his  whole  class  and  on  the  city  to 
which  they  all  belonged.  It  so  happened  that  his 
partner,  Mr.  Pims,  was  one  of  the  Directors  of  the 
Bank  in  question,  and  Mr.  Coulter  expressed  his 
opinion  of  the  whole  concern  in  no  very  flattering 
terms.  Entering  the  office  one  morning  wi  h  a 
"  daily"  in  his  hand,  he  accosted  Pims  aa  follows : 


il 


282 


COM  o'heoan  ;  OR, 


"I  Bay,  Pirns!  were  you  at  that  meeting  last 

night?" 

"  What  meeting ?'  said  the  other,  in  affected  sur- 

prise. 

"  Why  that  meeting  of  the  Home  and  Foreign 
Missionary  Society ""  pointing,  as  he  spoke,  to  the 
printed  account,  headed  in  flourishing  capitals. 

"  I  was  not,"  said  Pirns;  " I  would  have  been,  but 
for  Mrs.  Pims's  illness.  She  was  pretty  bad  all  the 
evening." 

"  But  I  see  Dutton  was,  if  you  were  not,"  went  on 
Mr.  Coulter.    "  He  occupied  the  chair,  it  seems.    I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  it  blistered  his  nether  end.  Fitter 
for  him  to  have  been  at  home  hiding  his  dishonored 
head.    Well '  I  would  give  a  trifle  to  know  now 
what  kind  ol  heart  that  man  has  got.    As  for  reli- 
gion, the  lew  said  about  that  the  better  for  all  con- 
cerned.    But  his  heart— I  should  like  to  have  it  ana^ 
lyzed,  for  it  strikes  mo  it  can't  be  composed  of  flesh 
and  blood,  like  other  hear ts— eh,  Pims  ?   Good  God '.'» 
he  8udd«inly  added,  giving  the  other  no  time  to  an- 
swer, '•  what  a  monstrous  anomaly !    A  man  presid- 
ing at  a  meeting  for  the  spread   of  the  Gospel 
amongst  unbelievers,  and  himself  just  then  caught  iu 
.ylhe  act  of  violating  both  the  spirit  and  the  letter  of 
'  that  Gospel.    Bah  1— how  I  loathe  such  hypocrites  I 
Convert  the  heathen,  indeed!  and  tlie  Jew— and  thu 
Papist !— why  there's  ne'er  a  one  of  them  but  may 
be  nearer  salvation  at  this  moment  than  that '  whitcd 


'•iB;^ 


OR, 


,t  that  meeting  last 


)ther,  in  affected  sur- 

Home  and  Foreign 

as  he  spoke,  to  the 

rishing  capitals. 

would  have  been,  but 

as  pretty  bad  all  the 

>u  were  not,"  went  on 
he  chair,  it  seems.    I 
his  nether  end.  Fitter 
liding  his  dishonored 
,  trifle   to  know  now 
las  got.    As  for  reli- 
the  better  for  all  coa- 
ixld  like  to  have  it  anor 
be  composed  of  flesh 
b,  Pirns?   Good  God  I" 
!  other  no  time  to  aii- 
naly !     A  man  presid- 
pread   of  the   Gospel 
ielf  just  then  caught  iu 
spirit  and  the  letter  of 
)athe  such  hypocrites  1 
and  the  Jew — and  tho 
one  of  them  but  may 
ment  than  that '  whited 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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IIIM 
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1.4    III  1.6 


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Corporation 


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Microfiche 

Series. 


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Collection  de 
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ESIIORANT  l.in-.  IN  THE  NEW  WOUI.I). 


283 


lepulclire.'    You're  a  precious  fine  set,  Pims !  take 
you  altogether !" 

"Why,  really,  Mr.  Coulter!"  said  Pims,  with  a 
sickly  attempt  at  a  smile,  "  I  can«o«  understand  why 
you  are  so  severe  on  Dutlon.  Surely  it  is  not  hia 
fault  if  the  affairs  of  the  Bank  have  not  prospered. 
You  wouldn't  have  him  pay,  out  of  his  own  pocket, 
all  these  outrageous  savages  who  are  clamoring  for 
money — hovering  in  crowds  around  the  door,  like 
crows  watching  for  a  carrion  ?  If  you  expect  any 
Buch  thing,  I  wouldn't  give  much  for  your  sense  of 
justice.  For  my  part,  Pd  see  the  confounded  rabble 
in  Jericho  before  P d  even  think  of  such  a  thing !" 

"No  doubt,  Pims,  no  doubt!"  said  his  partner, 
with  provoking  coolness.  "  These  poor  people  are  a 
confounded  rabble,  now  that  they  begin  to  look  for 
their  money.  If  you  called  fhem  confounded  fooh^ 
now,  I  wouldn't  wonder,  because  if  they  were  not 
fools  they  would  never  have  given  you  and  Dulton 
and  Peterson  and  all  the  others  the  chance  of  feath 
ering  your  nests  at  their  expense.  If  they  asked  my 
advice,  they'd  never  invest  one  solitary  cent  in  your 
Savings  Banks.  Savings  Banks,  indeed!  Losing 
Banks  would  be  the  fitter  name  as  regards  the  depo- 
eilors !    Has  Wood  been  here  to-day  yet  ?" 

Pims  replied  in  the  negative,  and  then  sullenly 
turned  away,  muttering  something  that  was  anything 
but  complimentary  to  his  senior.  The  latter  looked 
after  him  with  a  comical  expression  on  his  bluff 
features,  then  entered  his  own  sanctum  and  carefully 


284 


CON    o'REfiAN  ;    OR, 


closed  the  door.  He  had  a  thorough  contempt  fof 
the  school  to  which  both  his  partners  belonged,  and 
it  was  seldom  indeed  that  he  attempted  to  conceal 
his  sentiments  on  that  or  any  other  subject.  Dissi- 
mulation in  others  was  his  special  abhorrence,  and 
he  never,  on  any  account,  practised  it  himseli'. 

Could  Mr.  Coulter  have  traced  the  effects  of  this 
Bank  failure  in  their  individual    application,  his 
honest  heart  would  have  throbbed  with  still  fiercer 
indignation.     As  it  was,  he  could  have  only  a  gen- 
oral  idea  of  the  mournful  consequences,  but  the 
deeper  and  more  harrowing  scenes  of  mis«ry  were 
beyond  the  sphere  of  his  calculations,  and  well  for 
him  that  it  was  so,  since  he  had  no  means  of  remo- 
dying  those  evils   which  he  could   only   deplore. 
Peter  Whelau's  case,  however  lamentable,  was  none 
of  the  most  deplorable.     In  one  instance,  it.  was  a 
family  of  several  young  children,  whose  father  lay 
at  the  point  of  death.    He  had  been  a  hard-work- 
ing, industrious  mechanic,  and  with  the  assistance 
of  his  wife,  who  tooit  in  washing,  he  had  scraped 
together  a  matter  of  fifty  dollars,  which  was  now 
gone— gone  at  the  very  moment  when  it  was  most 
needed,  when  death  was  about  to  close  a  long  and 
tedious  illness,  during  which  the  family  had  been 
kept  on  the  very  shortest  allowance  of  food,  in 
order  to  provide  medical  attendance  and  the  little 
comforts  required  for  the  sick,  without  drawhig  on 
the  precious  hoard  in  tho  Bank.    It  was  the  dying 
hasband'a  constant  injunotion  to  his  wife  to  keep 


;  o«. 

thoroagh  contempt  for 
>artner8  belonged,  and 
3  attempted  to  conceal 
other  subject.     Dissi- 
ipecial  abhorrence,  and 
ctised  it  himself, 
aced  the  effects  of  this 
idual    application,   his 
obbed  with  still  fiercer 
could  have  only  a  gen- 
consequences,  but  the 
scenes  of  misery  were 
Iculations,  and  well  for 
had  no  means  of  rerae- 
e  could   only  deplore, 
er  lamentable,  was  none 
one  instance,  it- was  a 
idren,  whose  father  lay 
I  bad  been  a  hard-work- 
md  with  the  assistance 
ashing,  he  had  scraped 
dollars,  which  was  now 
iment  when  it  was  most 
out  to  close  a  long  and 
oh  the  family  had  been 
t  allowance  of  food,  in 
ttendance  and  the  little 
iok,  without  drawing  on 
Bank.     It  was  the  dying 
ion  to  his  wife  to  keep 


EUIORAS'T  I.TFK  IS  THE  NRW  WORI.O. 


285 


that  together  as  long  as  she  could.  "  You'll  want 
it  all  by  and  by,"  he  would  say,  "  when  you  come 
to  bury  me.  It's  not  much,  but  still  it's  better  than 
nothing."  Now  the  trying  time  was  at  hand — the 
funeral  expenses  were  coming  on — a  trifle,  too,  to 
be  paid  to  the  doctor,  and  the//i!y  dollars— ihe  sole 
hope  of  the  family — was  lost  forever.  Oh !  the 
misery  of  that  hour  I  But  the  prudent  wife  kept 
the  terrible  secret — she  knew  it  would,  in  all  pro- 
bability, have  been  instant  death  to  her  husband  to 
hear  that  she  was  left  penniless  at  such  a  time,  and 
EO  he  died  in  blissful  ignorance,  commending  his 
family  to  the  protection  of  God  and  ♦he  Blessed 
Virgin,  and  as  the  heart-broken  wid^w  closed  his 
sunken  eyes,  she  breathed  her  fervent  thanks  to 
God  that  poor  Jerry  died  without  that  heavy  blow. 
"He  had  enough  to  bear  without  it,"  said  she, 
"  may  the  Lord  be  good  and  mhrciful  to  his  soul  I' 
She  had  no  time  for  indulging  the  grief  which  filled 
her  heart,  for  she  had  to  consider  about  getting  her 
husband  decently  buried.  How  was  it  to  be  done, 
for  she  hadn't  quite  a  dollar  in  the  house?  But 
something  must  be  done ;  so  she  went  to  a  few  of 
her  wealthiest  acquaintances,  told  them  her  mourn- 
ful story,  and  asked  them  to  advance  the  sum  which 
she  required  on  sundry  little  articles  of  her  house- 
hold furniture.  This  they  all  refused,  chiding  her 
for  thinking  of  any  Buoh  thing,  but  they  went  to 
work,  two  or  three  of  them,  and  made  up  what 
buried  Jerry  decently,  and  left  a  surplus  of  some 


S86 


CON  o'regan  ;  OR, 


dollars  in  the  poor  widow's  hands.  Many  a  curse 
was  heaped  that  d«y  ou  the  heads  of  the  Bank  Di- 
rectors as  the  story  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth. 

This  was  but  one  of  the  many  distressing  scenes 
which  resulted  then  and  afterwards  from  this  atro- 
cious robbery,  and  what  wonder  was  it  that  the 
whole  city  rang  with  clamorous  comptsiints  and 
vehement  appeals  for  justice  ?  But  vain  were  cries, 
and  prayers,  and  tears.  The  money  was  not  to  bo 
had— the  Directors  would  hardly  condescend  to 
show  how  it  went,  or  what  prospect  there  was  of 
any  portion  of  it  being  refunded,  and  after  a  while 
the  public  mind  forgot  all  about  it  in  the  excitement 
of  some  new  topic.  But  long,  long  was  it  remem- 
bered by  those  to  whom  it  brought  ruin,  in  many 
oases  destitution.  Many  an  aching  heart  and  many 
a  cheerless  home  recorded  the  event  for  years  to 
nome,  while  the  hypocrites  who  had  thus  taken 
from  the  fatherless  and  the  widow,  and  squandered 
the  hard  earnings  of  the  poor,  ascended  higher  and 
higher  on  the  social  ladder,  untroubled  with  any 
qualms  of  conscience,  and  quite  willing  to  take 
charge  of  other  Savings  Banks,  provided  they  could 
•'  get  appointed." 

There  was,  then,  no  chance  of  Peter  Whelan  re- 
covering anything  from  the  Bank,  so  that  ho  was 
forced  to  give  up  the  notion  of  emigrating.  "  But 
111  not  give  it  up  altogether,"  said  he  to  Andy 
Dwyer,  a  week  or  two  before  the  time  fixed  for  Con 
and  the  Bergens  to  start ;  "  oh  no  !    I'll  always  have 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  i»  {W  WORLD. 


281 


ln  ;  OR, 

's  bands.     Many  a  curse 
le  beads  of  tbe  Bank  Di- 
om  mouth  to  mouth. 
I  many  distieasing  scenes 
Fierwards  from  this  atro- 
wonder  was  it  that  tho 
imorous   complaints  and 
!e  ?    But  vain  were  cries, 
ho  money  was  not  to  bo 
i  hardly  condescend  to 
t  prospect  there  was  of 
unded,  and  after  a  while 
ibout  it  in  the  excitement 
long,  long  was  it  remem- 
it  brought  ruin,  in  many 
n  aching  heart  and  many 
d  the  event  for  j-cars  to 
,es  who  had  thus   taken 
i  widow,  and  squandered 
oor,  ascended  higher  and 
ler,  untroubled  with  any 
d  quite   willing  to  take 
inks,  provided  they  could 

moe  of  Peter  Whelan  re- 
he  Bank,  so  that  ho  was 
ion  of  emigrating.  "  But 
Bther,"  said  he  to  Andy 
ore  the  time  fixed  for  Con 
**  oh  no  !     I'll  always  have 


the  hope  In  my  mind  that  Qnd  will  one  day  give  me 
the  means  of  going.  If  wo  get  anything  from  that 
villajnous  Bank,  well  and  good,  but  if  we  don't,  sure 
Mary  and  myself  must  only  begin  the  world  again, 
and  if  the  Lord  spares  us  our  health,  maybe  we 
won't  be  off  in  search  of  land — maybe  wo  won't  I" 

"  I  suppose  you'll  hardly  put  any  more  money  in 
Savings  Banks,  anyhow,"  observed  Andy,  with  a 
quiet  smile.  "  A  burnt  child  dreads  the  fire,  they 
say.'" 

"  Is  it  me ?'  cried  Peter,  " me  put  money  again  ia 
one  of  them  blackguard  nests  of  robbery  !  Ah !  if 
they  never  get  anybody's  cash  into  their  clutches  till 
they  get  mine,  they  may  live  to  the  age  of  Mathuse- 
lem.  If  I  ever  get  a  little  scraped  together  again, 
I'd  sooaet"  throw  it  in  the  fire  than  invest  it  in  Banks 
— invest,  indeed !— to  the  devil  I  pitch  such  invest- 
ments !  But,  after  all.  It's  a  folly  to  talk.  I'll  only 
have  to  look  sharp  for  the  time  to  come." 

Meanwhile  Paul  Bergen  and  his  wife  had  duly  re- 
ceived the  long-looked'for  letter  from  Felix,  contain- 
ing a  draft  on  one  of  t  ■-  City  Banks  for  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars.  "I  would  have  sent  you 
more,"  said  Felix,  in  the  letter,  '*  but  that  Judy  and 
myself  thought  it  best  only  to  send  what  would  just 
be  enough  to  take  you  all  out.  You'll  find  all  things 
provided  here  when  you  come — at  least,  you'll  have 
your  farm  ready  for  the  spade  and  the  plough,  and 
our  house  will  be  yours  till  you  can  get  one  up  for 
yourself.  Judy  and  me  are  ever  so  glad  to  hear  of  tha 


188 


COM    O'RiaAK  J   OB, 


fine  family  you  have,  may  the  Lord  spare  them  all  to 
be  a  comfort  to  you  in  your  old  days !    They'll  havo 
a  good  chance  out  here.     We're  all  well  pleased  that 
there's  some  more  coming  with  you.     There's  room 
enough  here  and  to  spare,  and  you  know  the  old 
saying, '  The  more  the  merrier.'    You  want  to  know 
if  we  have  a  priest  living  here,  and  I  wish  I  could 
Bay  '  Yes.'    As  yet  we  have  only  Mass  once  in  every 
two  weeks  or  so,  when  a  priest  from  the  next  mis- 
sion comes  here.    We  have  a  little  Church  that  we 
put  up  a  couple  of  years  ago,  and  when  we  get  able 
to  raise  a  better  and  larger  one,  this  will  do  us  for  a 
Bchoolhouse.     As  yet  we  have  no  schoolmaster,  but 
Father  Doran  says  he  has  one  in  view  for  us,  if  he 
can  only  find  him  out  in  time.    He's  going  to  adver- 
tise him  in  the  papers,  for  he  knows  he's  somewhere 
in  the  New  England  States.     This  will  be  good 
news  for  you  that  has  a  family  growing  up.    When 
we  have  a  good  priest  and  a  good  gohoolmaster,  we'll 
have  all  we  want.    Make  haste  now,  all  of  you.     Bo 
alive,  and  have  your  wits  about  you  on  the  road,  and 
don't  let  the  sharks  get  the  better  of  you."    Felix 
then  went  on  to  give  the  necessary  instructions  as 
to  the  route  to  be  taken  and  other  matters  of  that 
kind.    Felii'was  a  travelled  man,  and  prided  him- 
self no  little  on  his  practical  knowledge  of  the 
country. 

All  was  now  joyous  bustle  in  the  house  of  Paul 
Bergen.  Nora  began  to  hold  up  her  head  already  in 
an  independent  manner,  as  became  the  wife  of  a 


U 
tl 

ai 

BC 

fo 
B 
te 
h< 

g< 
ar 
P 

P' 
n( 

Ii 

N 
it'i 
a 
yo 

it 
ho 

ge 
de 
fill 
fri 
dr 
be 


OR, 

Lord  spare  them  all  to 
J  days !     They'll  havo 
re  all  well  pleased  that 
h  you.     There's  room 
id  you  know  the  old 
,'    You  want  to  know 
e,  and  I  wish  I  could 
ily  Mass  once  in  every 
8t  from  the  next  mis- 
little  Church  that  we 
and  when  we  get  able 
le,  this  will  do  ua  for  a 
e  no  schoolmaster,  but 
e  in  view  for  us,  if  he 
He's  going  to  adver- 
kaows  he's  somewhere 
I.    This  will  be  good 
y  growing  up.    When 
ood  eohoolmaster,  we'll 
tenow,  all  ofyou.     Bo 
ut  you  on  the  road,  and 
better  of  you."    Felix 
oessary  instructions  as 
.  other  matters  of  that 
man,  and  prided  him- 
cal  knowledge  of  the 

e  in  the  house  of  Paul 

I  np  her  head  already  in 

became  the  wife  of  a 


KMIORANT  LIFE  IN  THE  MBW  WORLD. 


IM 


landed  proprietor— that  was  to  be.  There  were  fifty- 
things  to  be  bought  and  got  ready  for  the  journey, 
and  amongst  the  rest  there  were  pairs  upon  pairs  of 
socks  and  stockings  to  be  knitted.  This  was  a  job 
for  Peggy  Daly,  whom  Winny  introduced  to  Mrs. 
Bergen  for  that  purpose.  During  the  frequent  in- 
tercourse  that  grow  out  of  this  connection,  the  wari^ 
hearted  Nora  became  strongly  attached  to  the  blind 
girl,  and  was  often  heard  to  say  that  "  she'd  give 
anythi.ng  at  all  to  have  her  with  her."  Even  to 
Peggy  herself  this  kindly  wish  was  not  seldom  ex- 
pressed, but  Peggy  would  only  smile  and  say :  "  It's 
not  my  luck,  Mrs.  Bergen,  dear  !  I  must  stay  where 
I  am,  unless  God  brings  about  some  great  change." 

"  Well,  dear,  I'm  sorry  for  it.  Indeed  I  am,"  said 
Nora,  "  but,"  she  added,  on  one  occasion,  "  of  coorse, 
it's  natural  for  you  to  stick  by  your  own.  It  'id  be 
a  lonesome  thing  for  yon  to  part  with  all  the  sister 
yon  have." 

"  It  would,"  said  Peggy,  "but  still  I  could  do  it  if 
it  was  the  will  of  God.  I'd  leave  her  an'  hers  in  His 
holy  keepin'.  But  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mrs.  Ber- 
gen,"— she  hesitated,  and  her  changing  dolor  plainly 
denoted  the  struggle  going  on  within.  Her  little 
fingers  played  unconsciously,  as  it  were,  with  the 
fringe  of  her  coarse  woollen  shawl,  and  her  eyelids 
drooped  as  though  the  orbs  they  covered  conld  hav« 
betrayed  her  emotion. 

"  What  were  you  goin'  to  say,  alanna  ?"  at  Irngtb 


/  * 


190 


CON  o'bkoan  ;  OB, 


««I  was,  ma'am."    The  fingers  moved  faster  ye 
and  more  tremulously,  and  the  color  on  the  soft 
cheek  deepened  to    a    carnation    hue.      "  There  a 
another  person,  Mrs.  Bergen!  a  friend  of  ours  that  s 
taken  up  entirely  with  bad  company,  an'  I'm  afeiird 
he'd  go  to  the  mischief  altogether  if  there  wasin  t 
somebody  to  give  him  a  good  advice  an'  look  alter 
him  now  an'  then.     He's  mighty  foolish  for  himeelf, 
Mrs.  Bergen !  but  he  has  a  good  heart— indeed  he 
has,  ma'am,  an'  somehow  he  listens  to  a  word  from 
me  when  he  wouldn't  listen  to  any  one  else.    Him 
an'  me  were  to  have  been  married  oust,  but  it  plased 
the  Lord  to  take  the  sight  from  me,  and  from  that 
out  I  made  up  my  mind  never  to  marry  him  or  any 

one  else."  '  , 

Mrs.  Bergen  could  hardly  speak.  The  tears  stood 
in  her  eyes,  and  taking  hold  of  Peggy'a  hand,  she 
squeezed  it  hard  between  her  own.  "  Poor  young 
crature,"  she  at  length  murmured,  "  you  have  a  hard 

cross  to  bear."  . 

"Oh!  not  so  heavy  after  all!"  said  Peggy,  with 
somewhat  more  cheerfulness,  encouraged  by  the 
tender  sympathy  of  the  other.  "  If  I  have  my  trials, 
I  have  my  comforts,  too.  Sometimes  I  get  poor 
Tom  to  keep  from  drink  for  weeks  at  a  time,  an' 
now  and  then  I  get  him  to  go  to  an  early  Mass. 
Well  1  there's  no  knowin',  ma'am,  what  tJuU  m&y  save 
h  m  from,  for  you  know  there's  nothing  draws  down 
such  a  curse  on  mau  c-  mortal- as  neglectin'  to  hear 
Mass  on  Sunday.    So  you  see,  dark  an'  all  as  I  am, 


kv ;  OR, 

fingers  moved  faster  ye 
id  the  color  on  the  soft 
rnation    hue.      "  There's 
an !  a  friend  of  ours  that's 
1  company,  an'  I'm  afeiird 
iltogelher  if  there  waim't 
rood  advice  an'  look  aiTter 
aighty  foolish  for  bimrelf, 
a  good  heart— indeed  he 
le  listens  to  a  word  from 
on  to  any  one  else.     Him 
married  onst,  but  it  phised 
[it  from  me,  and  from  ihat 
ever  to  marry  him  or  any 

Uy  speak.  The  tears  stood 
hold  of  Peggy's  h&nd,  she 
n  her  own.  "  Poor  young 
urmured,  "  you  have  a  hard 

Ler  all!"  said  Peggy,  with 
iloess,  encouraged  by  the 
ther.  "Ifl  have  my  trials, 
,o.  Sometimes  I  get  poor 
k  for  weeks  at  a  time,  an' 
m  to  go  to  an  early  Mass. 
',  ma'am,  what  that  may  save 
there's  nothing  draws  down 
mortal-  as  neglectin'  to  hear 
ou  see,  dark  an'  all  »&  I  am, 


KMIORAN'T  lAfZ  IN  THE  NBW  WORLD. 


29t 


r  can  do  some  good,  an'  that  its«lf  is  a  great  com- 
fort to  me." 

"  Well !  the  Lord  bless  you,  anyhow,  poor  girl !" 
said  Mrs.  Bergen,  warmly,  as  she  shook  Peggy's 
hand.  Peggy  returned  the  pressure  and  the  bless- 
ing, then  she  called  her  young  guide  and  told  him  to 
take  her  homo  now. 


Mt 


CON    o'RROAM  ! 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THKfew  remaining  weeks  past  away  all  too  qaick- 
ly,_at  least  so  Winny  thought,-and  the  eve  of  the 
day  fixed  on  for  "  the  start"  at  length  arrived.    Paul 
Bergen  had  sold  off  his  effects  to  better  advantage 
than  he  expected,  and  as  he  and  Nora  stood  towards 
evening  on  the  door  of  their  late  subterraneous 
dwelling  and  surveyed  its  naked  walls  now  seen  in 
the  extreme  narrowness  of  their  dimensions,  a  sim- 
nltaneous  feeling  of  gratitude  swelled  ^b-r  hearts  as 
they  thought  of  the  broad  open  prair.e  which  Felix 
had  described  as  the  location  of  their  new  home 

"Aren't  we  blest  and  happy,  Nora  dear,"  re- 
tnarked  Paul.  "  to  get  away  out  into  tbe  open  coun- 
try again  ?-sure  enough  it  was  a  poor  place  this  to 
live  in-shut  up  between  these  four  walls,  down  ever 
BO  far  under  the  ground  1    I  tell  you  it  was  wel  for 
us  that  Felix  made  his  way  out  where  he  did,  or     a 
what  we'd  have  to  live  and  die,  and  bnng  up  the 
children  here  where  neither  sun  norair  got  in  to  us^ 
"True  for  you,  Paul,"  returned  Nora,  thought- 
f«Uy  "M-e  have  every  reason  to  hold  up  our  hand. 


t 

t 
1 
I 
a 

h 
b 
n 

ti 

f( 
k 
n( 

BS 
Pl 

ui 
sa 

b( 
Be 
fo 

w] 

kil 

iai 


«MI(3RANT  MFK  IN  TUB  N«W  WOULD. 


293 


R  XVII. 

s  past  away  all  too  quick- 
uglit,— and  the  eve  of  the 
"  at  length  arrived.  Paul 
rects  to  better  advantage 
J  and  Nora  stood  towarda 
their  late  subterraneous 
1  naked  walls  now  seen  in 
r  their  dimensions,  a  sim- 
ide  swelled  their  hearts  as 
.  open  prairie  which  Felix 
ion  of  their  new  home. 

happy,  Nora  dear,"  re- 
ly  out  into  the  open  coun- 
it  was  a  poor  place  this  to 
these  four  walls,  down  ever 

I  tell  you  it  was  well  for 
ly  out  where  he  did,  or  it's 
and  die,  and  bring  up  the 
er  sun  nor  air  got  m  to  us." 
'  returned  Nora,  thought- 
ison  to  hold  up  our  hands 


and  thank  Qod.when  we  think  of  the  thousands  and 
thousands  in  this  very  city  that  can't  budge  from 
where  they  are,  but  must  take  everything  as  it 
comes.  But  aren't  we  goin'  where  I  was  saying. 
Paul?"  ^    ^' 

Paul  willingly  assented,  and  both  glancing  round 
to  see  that  nothing  was  left  behind,  they  hastily 
quitted  the  cellar,  Paul  looking  the  door  with  the  in- 
tention  of  giving  up  the  key  to  "the  landlord,"  who 
lived  in  one  of  the  upper  stories  of  the  same  house. 
He  and  Nora  then  walked  away  at  a  quick  pace  in 
an  opposite  direction.  Their  children  were  all  safely 
housed  in  Andy  Dwyer's  snug  kitchen,  Andy  and 
his  good  partner  having  kindly  insisted  on  their  aH 
naaking  that  tlieir  home  after  '^  the  auction"  till  such 
times  as  they'd  be  ready  to  start." 

Con  O'Regan,  too,  had  to  take  his  luggage  there, 
for  as  the  whole  party  was  to  set  out  before  daylight 
m  the  morning,  Andy  would  have  it  that  there  was 
no  use  in  disturbing  two  houses.    And  besides,  he 
said,  "  I  want  you  all  to  start  from  here— that's  the 
plain  truth,  if  you  must  have  it.     It  may  be  the  last 
night  we'll  ever  spend  together,  and  we  have  a  thou- 
sand  things  to  talk  about.    So,  Cornelius,  get  your 
box  down  here  as  fast  as  you  can,  and,  Alice  dear, 
see  that  you  have  something  nice  and  comfortable 
for  supper."    Mrs.  Dwyer  answered  that  she'd  do 
what  she  could,  and  Con,  fully  appreciating  Andy'a 
kindness,  declared  himself  quite  willing  to  accept  tbd 
bvitation. 


iU 


coH  o'hkgan  ;  OH, 


"The  only  thing  is,"  said  he,  "that  Winny  won't 
know  where  to  find  me." 

"  Oh!  never  you  m-in  .  that,"  was  Andy's  prompt 
reply,  "  we'll  Bee  that  sne  does  know,  and  I  think  I 
may  undertake  to  promise  that  you'll  find  her  hero 
when  you  come  back.    Be  oflf  now,  as  fast  as  ever 

you  can !" 

« I  will,  then,"  said  Con;  "  for  I  have  to  go  and 
see  Mr.  Coulter.  I  want  to  bid  him  farewell."  So 
saying.  Con  hurried  away,  his  mind  full  of  conflict- 
ing emotions.  When  he  returned  he  found  Winny 
before  him  just  as  Andy  had  predicted. 

"  Why,  Winny  dear,"  said  her  brother,  "I  hardly 
expected  to  see  you  here.  I  was  thiukia'  I'd  have 
to  go  up  to  the  house." 

"See  me,  indeed!"  repeated  Winny,  with  her  sad 
smile ;  "  I  can  te'.l  you  you  were  near  seeing  Letty, 
too.  She  wanted  to  come  right  or  wrong,  only  by 
good  luck  I  got  her  persuaded  that  it  wouldn't  be 
right  for  us  both  to  leave  the  house  at  once,  for  fear 
the  ladies  might  be  wanting  something." 

"The  Lord  be  praised  1"  said  Con,  fervently, 
«'  she's  a  good  creature  in  her  own  way,  but  her  ab- 
senoe  is  a  cordial  at  the  present  time.  She'd  pesf^r 
the  life  out  of  us  with  her  good-natured  talk." 

Andy  now  inquired  if  Con  had  seen  Mr.  Coulter, 
and  was  answered  with  a  sorrowful  shake  of  the 

bead. 
"  Is  it  possible  that  you  didn't  Be»  him  ?'*  cried 

Wiw'vy. 


c 

B 

3 
\? 
t( 
tl 
ei 

« 

P< 
d( 

P^ 

■W( 

he 
Tt 
Mi 
los 
ing 
no] 
sail 

•28 


;  OR, 
he,  "  that  Winny  won't 

It,"  was  Andy's  prompl 
jes  know,  and  I  think  I 
hat  you'll  find  her  hero 
off  now,  as  fast  as  ever 

"  for  I  have  to  go  and 
bid  him  farewell."  So 
lis  mind  full  of  conflict- 
turned  he  found  Winny 
J  predicted. 

a  her  brother,  "  I  hardly 
I  was  thiukin'  I'd  have 

;ed  Winny,  with  her  sad 
were  near  seeing  Letty, 
right  or  wrong,  only  by 
ided  that  it  wouldn't  be 
tie  house  at  once,  for  fear 
5  something." 
I"  said  Con,  fervently, 
ler  own  way,  but  her  ab- 
jsent  time.    She'd  pest'^r 
^ood-natured  talk." 
on  had  seen  Mr.  Coulter, 
sorrowful  shake  of  the 

1  didn't  Be»  him  f"  oried 


BMIOHANT  LIFE  IN  THK  NEW  WORLD.  295 

M  good  as  an  hour,  an'  couldn't  get  my  eves  on  him 
nor  none  of  them  could  tell  L  TheT he  taT 

b':^:vil,o'r^"'^^""^'^^'^-''«--^'^'^i- 

Th,.  '    u     i  ^''^  '*"''  g^  "^^^"^  seeing    him 
That's  all     You^il  just  have  to  go  to  the  house  thTs 

Just  then  Paul  Bergen  and  Nora  came  in   and 
Mrs.  D  wyer  was  about  to  ask  where  they  hai Ven 
when  her  husband  checked  her  by  a  look  17    ' 
too.  did  Winny,  .ho  laid  her  Jl Ll^t^^J/:; 

prrboyl'gtv'^r'""^^^^"^*'-'-^'  *o  '^- 
"Ah!  then  sure  enough,  but  that's  where  the* 
^ere  I-wasn't  I  blind  not  to  see  it  ?  B^t  then  1? 
head  was  runnin'  on  these  cakes  I  havel  th  oy^ 
They  re  not  nsin'  as  well  as  I'd  wish."    And  good 

it?  -yr;  ^''^"T.'^^  ^-'^  <*-•'  -«  o.ce  more 
lost  m  her  fears  and  hopes  concerning  the  interest- 
-g  edibles  on  which  she  had  spared  nlth  r  "ible 
nor  expense.  "Botheration  to  them  for  oak  s "' 
said  she  to  herself,  "P,,  go  bail  it's  what  they'll  go 
•Sam  me.  now  when  a  body  would  wish  to  hafc 


296 


CON  o'rkoan  ;  OR, 


them  the  very  best.  Well!  welll"  Bho  pbiloBophi. 
cally  added,  "  sure  isn't  it  the  way  of  the  world  ? 
It's  ever  an'  always  when  we  want  to  have  a  thing 
right,  that  it'll  be  sure  to  go  wrong !" 

Although  Mrs.  Dwyer  was  so  dissatisfied  with  the 
result  of  her  culinary  labors,  the  cakes  were  pro- 
nounced excellent  by  all  who  had  the  rare  pleasure 
of  tasting  them,  and,  on  the  whole,  the  supper  passed 
off  very  creditably  to  her  and  very  agreeably  to  her 
guests.    "The  cup  that  cheers,  but  not  inebriates," 
■went  freely  round,  and  inspired  by  its  fragrant 
aroma,  the  women  were  all  in  high  spirits,  and  chat- 
ted away  pleasantly,  while  the  men  talked  over  the 
great  business  in  hand.    Andy  was  rather  more  ora- 
cular than  usual,  interlarding  his  discourse  with  some 
half  dozen  Latin  proverbs,  to  the  great  edification 
and  instruction  of  his  less  learned  friends.     Above 
all  things  he  begged  of  Con  and  Paul  to  send  him 
back  word  from  time  to  time  touching  the  true  state 
of  the  country. 

"  It migJit  please  God,"  he  swd,  "that  I'd  have  the 
means  of  going  after  you,  some  time  or  another,  and, 
as  I  wouldn't  wish  to  do  anything  rash,  I'd  like  to 
know  exactly  what  kind  of  a  place  it  is.  I'll  depend 
on  you  both  to  give  me  a  full  and  true  account." 

The  required  promise  was  cheerfully  given,  and 
Andy  had  only  time  to  nod  his  head  and  say,  "  very 
good  '.—that  will  do  1"  when  the  door  opened  and 
give  admission  to  the  whole  household  of  Barney 
Bndy,  from  Barney  himself  down  to  little  Betsoy, 


w 
P 

J< 

le 
al 
th 

01 

wi 

Wi 

Pi 

no 

wi 
Al 

"i 
ha 
Al 
an 
yo 
he 
inj 

D 

of 

np 
oc 
pa 
ed 
rei 


d  ;  OR, 

well!"  Bho  philosophi- 
the  way  of  the  world  ? 
re  want  to  have  a  thing 
)  wrong !" 

,8  80  disBatisGed  with  the 
rs,  the  cakes  were  pro- 
10  had  the  rare  pleasure 
whole,  the  supper  passed 
lid  very  agreeably  to  her 
jers,  but  not  inebriates," 
nspired  by  its  fragrant 
in  high  spirits,  and  chat- 

the  men  talked  over  the 
ndy  was  rather  more  ora- 
g  his  disoourse  with  some 
,  to  the  great  edification 
learned  friends.  Above 
»n  and  Panl  to  send  him 
ae  touching  the  true  state 

le  said,  "  that  I'd  have  the 
(ome  time  or  another,  and, 
anything  rash,  I'd  like  to 
a  place  it  is.  I'll  depend 
full  and  true  account." 
(vas  cheerfully  given,  and 
d  his  head  and  say,  "  very 
hen  the  door  opened  and 
lole  household  of  Barney 
Blf  down  to  little  Betsey, 


KMIORAXT  MFE  IN  THE  NKW  WORLD.  £91 

i 

whom  he  carried  in  his  arms.  Tom  Derragh  and 
Peggy  brought  up  the  rear,  the  latter  holding 
Johnny  by  the  hand.  The  boy  was  so  accustomed  to 
lead  bis  aunt  that  he  would  not  forego  that  privilege, 
although  the  office  was  a  sinecure  on  that  occasion, 
thanks  to  the  brawny  arm  which  supported  Peggy 
on  the  other  side.  The  new  arrivals  were  hailed 
with  a  burst  of  joyous  welcome,  and  the  two  children 
were  speedily  conveyed  into  a  corner  by  Janie  and 
Patsey  Bergen.  This  move  elicited  an  approving 
nod  from  Barney, 

"  That's  right,  Janie,"  said  he,  "  we  just  took  them 
with  us  that  you'd  be  all  together  this  last  night. 
An'  besides,"  he  added,  looking  round  to  the  elders, 
"  if  we  hadn't  brought  them  along,  somebody  must 
have  staid  with  th^m,  and  that  would  never  do,  for 
Anty  wanted  to  come,  and  Peggy  wanted  to  come, 
and  myself  and  Tom  are  only  poor  hands  at  nursing, 
you  may  be  sure,  so  use  wouldn't  stay  behind,  and 
here  we  are,  you  see — bag  and  baggage,  as  the  say- 
ing is." 

"And  you're  all  heartily  welcome,"  said  Mrs. 
Dwycr ;  "  sit  over  here  to  the  table  and  have  a  cup 
of  tea." 

This  oflfer  was  declined,  for  they  had  all  "just  got 
up  from  the  table  as  they  came  out,  so  they  had  no 
occasion  in  life."  The  supper  was  then  quickly  dis- 
patched, and  the  relics  of  the  feast  being  duly  dear- 
ed  away,  conversation,  or  rather  chat,  went  on  with 
renewed  animation.    Winny  and  Con  were  seated 


fsa 


CON   0  REGAN  ;   OR, 


together  in  a  corner  of  the  kitchen  arranging  their 
little  plans  for  the  uncertain  period  of  time  which 
was  to  elapse  before  they  met  again.  Many  things 
were  still  to  be  talked  over,  but  Winny  suddenly 
stopped  and  reminded  her  brother  that  he  had  bet- 
ter go  off  at  once  to  Mr.  Coulter's,  before  it  got  any 
later.  "  Ah !  then,  sure  enough,  Winny,  it's  time  I 
wasn't  here,"  observed  Con,  rising  and  reaching  for 
his  hat,  at  the  same  time  informing  Andy  of  where 
he  was  going. 

"  Oh,  well !  you  mnstnH  go  alone,"  said  Andy,  ris- 
ing, too ;  "  we'll  not  be  long  away,  Bernard,  so  I'll 
leave  you  all  to  entertain  each  other  for  a  little 
while." 

Con  protested  against  Andy's  going  with  him,  but 
it  waa  no  use,  go  Andy  would,  apd  they  both  reach- 
ed the  door,  when  a  gentle  tap  was  heard  on  the  out- 
side, and  the  door  being  opened,  in  walked  Mr. 
Coulter  himself,  his  honest,  cheerful  face  all  in  a 
glow  after  his  long  walk  in  the  cool,  fresh  air  of  the 
spring  evening. 

•'  Where  are  yon  bound  for,  Con  ?"  was  his  first 
salutation,  as  the  young  man  stepped  back  respect- 
fully to  make  way  for  him. 

"  Indeed,  then,  I  was  just  goin'  down  to  your 
house,  sir,  as  I  couldn't  see  you  all  day." 

"  Well !  you  see  I  have  saved  you  that  trouble. 
I  beard  yon  had  been  wanting  to  see  me,  and  ) 
thought  yon  might  hardly  find  time  to  call  again." 
This  wu  said  with  a  smile,  for  Mr.  Coulter  knew 


V 

if 

si 
e 


tl 
n 
m 
II 

tl 

t( 

T 
T 

01 
C( 

b< 
B 

P 
k! 

tl 

A 


AN  ;  OR, 

3  kitchen  arranging  their 
ain  period  of  lime  »vhich 
met  again.  Many  things 
rer,  but  Winny  suddenly 
brother  that  he  had  bet- 
'oulter's,  before  it  got  any 
aough,  Winny,  it's  time  I 
D,  rising  and  reaching  for 
nforming  Andy  of  where 

go  alone,"  said  Andy,  ri's- 
>ug  away,  Bernard,  so  I'll 
a  each  other  for  a  little 

.ndy's  going  with  him,  bat 
>uld,  apd  they  both  reach- 
tap  was  heard  on  the  out- 
;  opened,  in  walked  Mr. 
St,  cheerful  face  all  in  a 
1  the  cool,  fresh  air  of  the 

[  for,  Con  ?"  was  his  first 
lan  stepped  back  respect- 

ust  goin'  down  to  your 
9  you  all  day." 
)  saved  you  that  trouble, 
anting  to  see  me,  and  1 
r  find  time  to  call  again." 
ile,  for  Mr.  Coulter  knew 


KMIGRAVT  MFE  IN  THE  NEW  WOBt.D, 


29» 


"ery  well  that  Con  would  have  found  time.  Glano< 
:ng  his  quick  eye  round,  the  old  gentleman  was  not 
slow  in  perceiving  Winny,  who  had  stood  up  at  hi3 
entrance,  aa  did  all  the  others.  Nodding  kindly  to 
Winny,  Mr,  Coulter  said,  with  the  suavity  of  a  true 
gentleman  : 

"Sit  down,  my  good  people,  sit  down!  Pray 
don't  disturb  yourselves  on  my  account." 

The  seats  being  ail  resumed,  and  the  children 
thrust  away  into  holes  and  corners,  "for  fear  of  an- 
noying the  gentleman,"  Mr.  Coulter  turned  onco 
more  to  Con  :  "  And  so.  Con,  you  propose  to  start 
in  the  morning,  don't  your" 

"  With  God's  help,  I  do,  sir,  thanks  to  yoa  and 
the  ladies." 

"  To  me  and  the  ladies.  Con !"  repeated  Mr.  Coul- 
ter, facetiously ;  "  oh !  if  the  ladies  have  a  hand  in 
your  undertaking  there  is  no  fear  of  its  failure. 
The  ladies  have  unlimited  power  in  this  world  of 
ours.  We  have  heard  of  all  power  being  given  to 
certain  parties  in  times  past,  but  I  think  there  must 
be  some  mistake  in  the  record,  though  it  be  the 
Bible.  It  is  certainly  the  ladies  who  have  *  all 
power'  now-a-days — at  least,  if  they  have  not,  I 
know  not  who  has." 

The  irreverence  of  this  speech  was  overlooked 
by  the  company,  who  had  far  too  much  respect  for 
the  speaker  to  criticize  his  words  even  in  thought. 
Andy  alone  took  upon  him  to  reply  : 

>'•■  By  dad,  sir,  they  have  made  a  great  atir  ;a  the 


800 


CON  o'regan  ;  on, 


world  ever  since  it  was  a  world.  From  iTte  down 
to  Cleopatra,  Queen  of  Egypt,  that  tiirnec'  the  head 
of  the  renowned  Mark  Antony,  and  'rora  her  to 
Queen  Elizabeth,  the  pet  daughter  of  Harry  the 
Eighth,  and  a  great  pillar  of  the  lleformation,  the 
ladies  have  played  the  mischief  with  the  poor  nouns 
masculine.  Helen  of  Troy  r^sed  a  dust  that  didn't 
settle  again  for  ten  lonpr  i  ears,  and  ir  Ireland  we 
had  a  sister  of  hers,  \r  name  Dervorghal,  who 
wasn't  a  bit  better  thv  jlxe  should  be,  the  thief  of 
the  world." 

Andy  paused  fVom  sheer  want  of  breath,  and 
Mr.  Coulter  politely  assented,  regarding  his  new 
acquaintance  with  some  degree  of  interest  as  a 
specimen  of  original  character. 

"  You  are  quite  right,  Mr.  — — ,"  said  he,  hesitat- 
ing; "  Mr.  — — ,  ah! — excuse  me — I  have  forgotten 
your  name." 

"  My  name  is  Dwyer,  sir,  at  your  service  I— An- 
drew Dwyer  !"  and  Andy  bowed  very  low,  by  way 
of  showing  bis  manners.  The  name  was  all  that 
Mr.  Coulter  wanted,  as  he  meant  to  cultivate  Andy's 
acquaintance  a  little  farther. 

•'  And  so  this  is  a  farewell  party,"  observed  Mr 
Coulter,  glancing  once  more  over  the  company; 
"  are  all  these  friends  of  yours  bound  for  the  West, 

Con  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  there's  only  myself  and  Paul  Bergen 
Bnd  his  family,"  pointing  them  out  in  succession  , 
H  none  of  the  others  arc  able  to  go,  though  it  istft 


N  ;   OR, 

'orld.  From  1^1*^  down 
pt,  that  turner'  the  head 
ntony,  and  ivora  her  to 
daughter  of  Harry  the 
of  the  lleformation,  the 
bief  with  the  poor  nouns 
rvised  a  dust  that  didn't 
I  ears,  and  ir  Ireland  wo 
name  Dervorghal,  who 
J  should  be,  the  thief  of 

Bf  want  of  breath,  and 

ited,  regarding  his  new 

degree  of  interest  as   a 

Bter. 

r.  — — ,"  said  he,  hesitat- 

ise  me — -I  have  forgotten 

r,  at  your  service  I — An- 
bowed  very  low,  by  way 
The  name  was  all  that 
neant  to  oullivate  Andy's 
r. 

■ell  party,"  observed  Mr 
aore  over  the  company ; 
ours  bound  for  the  West, 

f  myself  and  Paul  Bergen 
them  ont  in  succession  , 
ble  to  go,  though  it  isn^t 


2MI0RAKT  UFR  IN  THE  NBW  WORLO. 


doc 


their  hearts  would  hinder  them,  if  they  had  the 
means." 

"  Indeed  !"  said  the  old  gentleman,  thoughtfully  ; 
"  why,  I  think  you  told  me  there  were  several  fami- 
lies to  go  with  you." 

"  Well !  so  we  thought  then,  sir,  but  when  all 
oaovo  to  all  there  could  none  of  them  go  except  us. 
There  was  Peter  Whelan  thought  he  had  nothing 
to  do  but '  bundle  and  go,'  but  the  Savings  Bank 
settled  Jam,  and  left  him  that  he  couldn't  go  any- 
where at  the  present  time.  Then  there  was  Philip 
Quigley  had  a  little  money  by  him,  and  thought  as 
he  was  a  lone  man,  it  would  be  enough  to  take  him, 
and,  what  do  you  think,  Mr.  Coulter,  but  a  couple 
of  nights  ago,  the  house  he  boarded  in  took  fire,  and 
poor  Philip  lost  every  cent  he  had.  Another  man 
took  sick  some  weeks  ago,  and  had  to  go  to  hospi- 
tal, and  between  his  own  little  expenses  there  and 
the  support  of  his  family,  there's  a  big  hole  made  in 
the  money.  So  that's  the  way  of  it,  sir,  and  a  poor 
way  it  is,  too." 

"  And  this  fine  young  fellow  here  ?"  inquired  Mr. 
Coulter,  pointing  to  Tom  Derr^h.  "Is  not  he 
going?" 

Con  only  smiled  and  shook  his  head,  but  Tom 
bluntly-  answered:  "No,  sir,  I  a'nt  a-going.  I'm 
sorry  for  it,  but  it  can't  be  helped.  People  can't 
fit/  to  the  West  or  anywhere  else,  I  reckon." 

'*  Certainly  not,  young  man,  a  little  money  is  re- 
quired for  that,  like  most  other  things;  but  surely 


802 


CON  o'beoan  ;  OH, 


you  ought  to  have  tome  money.     How  long  havft 
you  been  in  this  country  ?" 

"Ten  years  or  bo,"  was  the  dogged  reply. 

"Teu  years!"  repeated  Mr.  Coulter,  in  a  tone  nf 
Burprise.     "And  you  have  no  family,  have  you  ?" 

"  Well  no — I  ha'nt — but  to  tell  you  the  truth,  sir, 
I  never  could  get  money  to  stick  to  mo.  It  wnt 
as  fast  as  it  came.  I  was  always  a  graceleea  lubber, 
good  for  nothing  but  spending  money.  Drunk  and 
Bober — drank  and  sober — that's  the  way  it  is  with 
me,  and  so  it'll  be  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  So 
there's  an  end  of  it." 

Peggy  could  not  stand  this.  Forgetful  for  a  mo- 
ment of  the  respected  presence  of  that  kind  Mr. 
Coulter,  of  whom  she  had  heard  so  much,  the  poor 
girl  could  not  allow  Tom  to  blacken  his  own  repu- 
tation in  that  way.  She  could  abuse  him  herself  at 
times,  but  she  could  never  hear  him  abused  by  ano- 
ther without  taking  up  his  defence  warmly. 

"  Ah !  then,  never  mind  him,  sir,"  she  cried  in  a 
vehement  tone,  "  he's  not  half  so  bad  as  he'd  make 
himself  out.  Indeed  he's  not,  sir.  Many  a  good 
dollar  of  Lis  earniu'  goes  in  charity,  an'  I  know  he 
gave  as  good  as  a  hundred  dollars  to  doctors,  one 
■way  an'  another,  tryin'  to  get  somebody  cured  of 
what's  never  to  be  cured  in  this  world.  He's  a  little 
wild,  now  an'  then,  sir,  but  he  works  hard  when 
he's  at  his  work,  an'  nobody  could  ever  say  that  he 
Bf eut  what  wasn't  his  own." 

Poor  Peggy's  burst  of  exoitement  was  now  over 


■--"^  ,'-.ji-'.ies^i«(i^K^s*»w«i->ii«KwrFww««i'&*i- 


f ;  o«, 

loney.     How  long  hav* 

le  dogged  reply. 
Ir.  Coulter,  in  a  tone  nf 
10  family,  have  you  ?" 
.0  tell  you  the  truth,  sir, 
1  stick  to  me.  It  w«nt 
ways  a  gracele«8  lubber, 
ing  money.  Drunk  and 
hat's  the  way  it  is  with 
!nd  of  the  chapter.    So 

is.    Forgetful  for  a  mo- 

jence  of  that  kind  Mr. 

leard  so  much,  the  poor 

o  blacken  his  own  repu- 

uld  abuse  him  herself  at 

lear  him  abused  by  ano- 

lefenoe  warmly. 

him,  sir,"  she  cHed  in  a 

alf  so  bad  as  he'd  make 

not,  sir.     Many  a  good 

a  charity,  an'  I  know  he 

dollars  to  doctors,  one 

get  somebody  cured  of 

this  world.    He's  a  little 

t  he  works  hard  when 

f  could  ever  say  that  he 
» 

:citement  was  now  over 


EUIORANT  LIFK  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


80& 


and  she  felt  as  though  she  could  sink  into  the 
ground  as  she  thougiit  of  who  it  was  that  she  had 
been  addressing,  and  addressing,  too,  on  behalf  of 
Tom  Derragh.  Tears  of  shame  and  vexation  filled 
her  sightless  eyes,  and  she  drew  back  instinctively 
from  the  table,  as  though  that  move  could  screen 
her  from  observation.  Tom  would  have  taken  her 
hand,  but  she  drew  it  away  with  a  muttered  "let 
me  alone,  will  you?"  As  for  Mr.  Coulter,  he  sat 
looking  at  the  mobile  and  most  expressive  features 
of  the  blind  girl  with  mingled  pity  and  admiration. 
He  saw  her  truly  feminine  distress  and  was  far  too 
delicate  to  increase  it  by  even  a  word.  Turning  to 
Con,  he  renewed  his  conversation  with  him,  as 
though  nothing  had  happened  to  break  in  upon  it, 
although  ho  still  cast  an  occasional  glance  on 
Peggy,  who  sat  silent  and  pensive  a  little  behind 
the  others. 

"Do  you  expect  to  be  located  near  your  friend 
Bergen  here?"  said  Mr.  Coulter  to  Con. 

"  Well,  I  hope  so,  sir !  His  brother  Felix — that's 
him  that  sent  for  him — has  taken  it  in  hands  to  get 
land  for  me,  too,  so  it's  likely  he'll  try  and  get  it  all 
together,  if  he  can  at  all." 

"  What  family  has  Paul  Bergen  ?" 

"He  has  only  four  children  now,  sir.  He  had 
another  fine  boy  as  you'd  see  in  a  day's  walkin',  but 
he  was  killed  in  the  forepart  of  the  winter  by  an 
unlucky  blow  of  a  stone  from  another  little  fellow 
•boat  his  own  age." 


8M 


CON  o'kboan  ;  OB, 


"Dreadful!  dreadful!"  said  Mr.  Coalter;  "what 
•D  overwhelming  shock  that  must  have  been  to  the 
poor  parents  I" 

"Well!  it  was,  sir!"  said  Paul,  who  had  over- 
heard what  passed ;  "  it  was  a  great  heart-break  en- 
tirely,  but,  of  course,  we  had  to  get  ovar  it  the  best 
way  we  could.  There  was  no  use  flyin'  in  the  face 
of  God  about  that  or  anything  else.  It  was  His  will. 
or  it  wouldn't  come  across  us." 

Mr.  Coulter  said  it  was  very  tru?,  but  in  his  heart 
ho  wondered  at  the  strong  faith  which  sustained 
these  poor  people  in  all  trials,  even  the  heaviest  and 
mo&t  aiUicting. 

"  If  Peter  had  only  died  a  natural  death,  sir,"  swd 
Nora,  breaking  silence  for  the  first  time,  "  I  thitik  we 
wouldn't  have  grieved  as  we  did  after  him,  for  there's 
no  knowin'  what  was  before  him  if  he  had  lived. 
Maybe  it's  what  God  was  good  to  us  in  takin'  him 
when  he  did,  though,  God  help  ua !  we  couldn't  think 
80  at  the  time.  Patseyl  you  villain!  what's  that 
you're  doin'?"  Her  quick  eye  had  detected  tlia 
elder  hope  of  hor  house  in  the  stealthy  abstraction 
of  some  choice  morsel  from  Mrs.  Dvvyer's  cup- 
board. 

A  general  laugh  followed,  in  the  midst  of  which 
Patsey  squatted  on  his  seat  and  slily  closed  the  cup- 
board, looking  as  innocent  and  demure  as  though 
nothing  had  happened.  His  mother,  unwilling  to 
disturb  the  company,  especially  as  Mr.  Coulter  was 
present,  contented  herself  with  shaking  her  fist  at  the 


OR, 


BMIORANT  I.IFR  IS  TlUt  NlfT  WORLD. 


305 


Mr.  Coulter;  "what 
lUHt  have  been  to  the 

Paul,  who  had  over- 
great  heart-break  en- 
,0  get  ov3r  it  the  best 
<  use  flyin'  in  the  face 

elee.    It  was  His  will 

I) 

'  tru?,  but  in  his  heart 
faith  which  sustained 
even  the  heaviest  and 

atural  death,  sir,"  s'^id 
[irst  time,  "  I  think  we 
d  after  him,  for  there's 
him  if  he  had  lived, 
d  to  us  in  takin'  him 
ua!  we  couldn't  think 
I  villain!  what's  that 
ye  had  detected  tlia 
e  stealthy  abstraction 
I  Mrs.    Dvvyer's  cup- 

n  the  midst  of  which 
d  slily  closed  the  cup- 
id  demure  as  though 
mother,  unwilling  to 
ly  as  Mr.  Coulter  was 
shaking  her  fist  at  the 


ealprit,  who  thereupon  looked  very  sullen  and  very 
indignant. 

"  I  perceive  that  boy  has  a  will  of  his  own,''  ob- 
served Mr.  Coulter. 

"  Ah,  then,  faix,  he  has  so,  sir,"  said  the  father,  half 
proudly,  half  excusingly ;  "  he's  been  amongst  Yan- 
kee children  so  long  that  he  begins  to  think  himself 
a  man  already."  Here  a  look  from  I7or«  reminded 
Paul  that  he  had  made  a  great  blunder.  Ho  colored 
deeply,  coughed  once  or  twice,  and  cleared  his  throat 
vigorously.  "  I  meant  to  say,  sir,"  he  began,  •'  that 
poor  Patsey  has  got  some  Yankee  notions  of  inde- 
pendence into  his  head,  and  thinks  himself  as  good 
any  day  he  rises  as  his  Irish  father  or  mother.  That's 
not  the  way  in  the  old  country,  sir  I  The  father  is 
the  master  there  as  long  as  he  lives,  and  the  mother, 
too,  for  that  matter." 

Mr.  Coulter  laughed  good  humoredly.  "  I  know,'» 
said  he,  "that  you  Irish  have  a  high  notion  of 
parental  authority,  but  don't  you  think  you  stretch 
it  too  far  at  times  ?  Are  you  not  too  hard  on  the 
youngsters  now  and  then?" 

"  Oh  I  begorra,  we're  not,  sir !"  said  Paul,  in  a  very 
decided  tone;  "if  we  don't  keep  them  down  when 
they're  weak  an'  young,  they'll  keep  its  down  when 
they're  big  an'  strong,  an'  us  feeble  an'  old.  Oh,  bc- 
dad.  Mr.  Coulter,  there's  nothing  like  the  rod  if  yon 
want  to  make  good  children  au'  have  them  grow  up 
good  men  an'  women." 


T 


M« 


CON  o'reoan  ;  OR, 


"  Yes,"  said  Andy,  "  there's  no  going  beyond  that, 
for  the  Holy  Ghost  tells  us  the  same  thing." 

"  The  Holy  Ghost !"  repeated  Mr.  Coulter,  in  un- 
qualified amazement ;  "  were  you  ever  talking  to  him, 
friend  ?" 

'•  Oh !  of  course  I  wasn't,  sir,  but  He  says  ii  v\  tbo 
Scripture,  and  that's  all  the  same  you  know '  '  Ho 
that  bateth  bis  child  sparetb  the  rod.'  At  home  ia 
Ireland,  sir " 

Mr.  Coulter  stopped  bim  short  with  "  What  do 
you  know  of  the  Scriptures  at  home  in  Ireland  ?" 

*'  Oh !  as  to  that,"  said  Andy,  with  his  grave  smile, 
"  it's  not  the  fashion  there  to  talk  of  it  much — that's 
of  the  Scripture — but  the  people  are  taught  to  act 
on  it.  That's  what  makes  all  the  difference  between 
us  and  our  neighbors,  that  they  have  it  forever  on 
their  lips,  but  we  have  it  in  onr  hearts.  And  good 
reason  why  we  should,  for  don't  we  hear  it  read  and 
explained  to  us  from  onr  infancy  up  I" 

"  Humph !'  said  Mr.  Coulter,  "  that's  something 
new  to  me." 

"  That  may  be,  sir,  for  it's  new  to  many  a  one  in 
these  parts,  bat  it's  nothing  new  to  us.  I'd  baok 
old  Father  Henoessy,  the  Lord  be  good  to  him  ! — 
that  was  our  old  parish  priest,  sir,  when  I  was  a  slip 
of  a  boy — again  any  preacher  in  this  city  for  ex- 
pounding the  sacred  text,  and  more  shame  for  him 
if  be  hadn't  it  all  at  his  finger-enda — that's  the  Bible, 
air — when  he  wa"  "Professor  of  Scripture  for  as  good 
as  nine  years  iu   '.  <  Mob  Oollege  in  Paris.    It  ^m 


m:  o«. 


KMIORiNT  Lire  IN  THE  NBW  WORLD. 


80T 


i'g  no  going  bejond  that, 
the  same  thing." 
sated  Mr.  Coulter,  in  un- 
i  you  ever  talking  to  him, 

jiir,  but  He  says  ii  n  tbo 
e  same  you  knonr*  'He 

b  the  rod.'     At  home  iu 

1  short  with  "  What  do 
at  home  in  Ireland  ?" 
idy,  with  his  grave  smile, 
;o  talk  of  it  much — that's 
people  are  taught  to  act 
ill  the  difference  between 
they  have  it  forever  on 
1  onr  hearts.  And  good 
don't  we  hear  it  read  and 
ifanoy  up  1" 
ulter,  "  that's  something 

.'s  new  to  many  a  one  in 
Qg  new  to  us.  I'd  back 
Lord  be  good  to  him ! — 
38t,  sir,  when  I  was  a  slip 
3her  in  this  city  for  ex- 
and  more  shamo  for  him 
er-ends — that's  the  Bible, 
r  of  Scripture  for  as  good 
College  in  Paris.     It  ^m 


from  him  I  learned  most  of  what  I  know,"  continued 
An'ly,  with  deep  feeling,  "and  especially  what  lillla 
Scripture  I  have.  May  the  Lord  clothe  his  soul  in 
^lory  this  nij»ht,  for  he  was  like  a  father  to  me,  and 
It  wasn't  his  fault  but  that  I'm  a  priest  myself  at  this 
present  hourr." 

The  pious  aspiration  dictated  by  Andy's  gratitude 
was  fervently  responded  to  by  a  simultaneous 
"  Amen !"  from  all  present,  with  the  exception  of 
Mr.  Coulter,  who  respected  the  feeling  which  he 
could  not  understand.  After  a  momentary  silence, 
he  abruptly  said  "  good  night !"  and  kindly  shaking 
hands  with  Winny,  then  with  Paul  aud  his  wife,  to 
whom  he  wished  a  safe  and  pleasant  journey,  he  re- 
quested Con  to  go  with  him  a  little  way  on  his  return 
home,  as  he  wanted  to  speak  to  him  in  private. 
Con  was  on  bis  feet  in  an  instant,  hat  in  hand. 

"  Good  night,  Mr.  Dwyer,"  said  the  kind  old  gen- 
tleman, taming  to  that  important  personage ;  "  as 
you  are  not  leaving  the  city  just  now  we  shall  meet 
again — at  least  I  hope  so." 

When  they  had  got  a  little  way  from  the  house, 
Mr.  Coulter  asked  Con  who  and  what  the  blind  girl 
was,  and  how  she  was  connected  with  that  wild,  dis- 
sipated-looking young  man,  in  whom  she  seemed  to 
take  such  interest. 

Having  heard  all  that  Con  knew  on  the  subject, 
Mr.  Coulter  remarked  that  there  was  something 
past  the  common  in  that  girl,  and  that  it  was  a 
great  pity  to  see  her  so  wrapped  up  in  a  fellow  who 


T 


808 


CON    0  RK6AN  ;   OR, 


coald  hardly  understand  the  valae  of  Buoh  a  heari 
as  here. 

"  Well  I  I  don't  know  as  to  that,  sir,"  observed 
Oon ;  "  poor  Tom  seems  to  think  a  power  of  Peggy, 
and  they  say  her  word  is  l»w  with  him.  They'd  be 
married  long  ago  only  that  Peggy  won't  trust  him 
on  account  of  the  drink.  And  no  wonder  she 
wouldn't,  for  he's  hardly  ever  a  week  at  a  time  to 
say  right  sober." 

•'  Has  the  girl  been  always  blind  ?" 

"  Oh  dear,  no,  sir !  I  have  it  from  her  own  bro- 
ther-in-law, that  Barney  Brady  that  you  saw  there 
to-night,  that  it  was  mindtn'  Tom  in  a  long  sickness 
he  had  in  his  house,  that  she  got  the  cold  that  settled 
in  her  eyes  and  took  the  sight  from  her.  She  was  a ' 
clean,  likely  little  girl  before  that  as  you'd  wish  to 
see — so  they  tell  me." 

"  I  can  well  believe  th«.t,"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  "  for 
even  now  she  is  remarkably  pretty.  What  a  touch- 
ing page  of  lowly  life,"  he  thought,  "  is  here  opened 
to  our  view  !  Truly  has  it  been  said  that  truth  is 
stranger  th<^n  fiction.  But  what  a  people  are  these 
Irish  I— -how  inadequate  are  others  to  judge  them 
y  or  to  form  an  estimate  of  the  deep  and  earnest  feel- 
ings which  lie  hidden  in  their  hearts,  often  beneath 
a  rough,  unpromising  exterior  I" 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  to  Con,  "if  they  have 

ever  taken  this  poor  girl  to  any  oculist  ? — has  there 

ever  oeen  any  attempt  made  to  restore  her  sight  P" 

.  "  Well  I  I  b'Ueve  there  was,  sir !    Tom  laid  out  a 


N  ;   OH, 

le  valae  of  Buoh  a  hewi 

s  to  that,  sir,"  observed 
think  a  power  of  Peggy, 
w  with  him.  They'd  he 
Peggy  won't  trust  him 
And  no  wonder  she 
ver  a  week  at  a  time  to 

rs  blind  ?" 

7e  it  from  her  own  bro- 
■ady  that  you  saw  there 
Tom  in  a  long  sickness 
got  the  cold  that  settled 
ht  from  her.  She  was  a ' 
■e  that  as  you'd  wish  to 

"  said  Mr.  Coulter,  "  for 
pretty.  What  a  touch- 
bought,  "  is  here  opened 
been  said  that  truth  is 
what  a  people  are  these 
3  others  to  judge  them 
le  deep  and  earnest  feel- 
ir  hearts,  often  beneath 
orl" 

i  to  Con,  *'  if  they  have 
any  oculist  ? — has  there 
B  to  restore  her  sight  P" 
as,  sir !    Tom  laid  out  a 


MiORANT  L!FE  IN  THE  NBW  VTORLD. 


80« 


power  o'  money,  they  tell  me,  try  in'  to  get  her  cured 
but  it  seems  it  was  all  no  use." 

No  more  was  said  on  the  subject,  for  just  then 
Mr.  Coulter  insisted  on  Con's  turning  back.  "  You 
Lave  to  start  very  early,"  said  he,  "  and  the  sooner 
you  are  in  bed  all  the  better.  I  have  already  given 
you  all  the  advice  in  my  power,  and  have  now  only 
to  wish  you  that  prosperity  in  your  new  undertaking 
which  your  good  conduct  and  steady  industry  so  well 
deserve.  As  for  Winny,  you  need  have  no  fears 
about  her.  My  sisters  take  a  deep  interest  in  her 
welfare,  and  she  will  have  a  good  home  with  them 
till  you  are  enabled  to  send  for  her  with  the  rest  of 
your  family.  Farewell  I  if  we  should  never  meet 
again,  you  will  remember  old  Sam  Coulter  as  one 
who  wished  yon  well."  There  was  a  husky  tone  in 
his  voice  that  betrayed  more  emotion  than  he  chose 
to  manifest  in  words.  Shaking  Con's  hand  warmly 
and  again,  he  was  moving  rapidly  away,  but  Con 
harried  after  him. 

"  So  you're  goin',  sir,"  he  got  ont  with  no  small 
difficulty,  "  an  not  a  word  of  the  money !  You 
never  asked  me  when  or  how  I'd  pay  it  to  the 
ladies,  nor  neither  did  themselves,  when  I  went  to 
bid  them  farewell,  may  the  Lord  in  Heaven  bless 
them  and  you  now  and  for  evermore  1" 

"  Neither  my  sisters  nor  mypelf  thought  it  necei> 
sary  to  exact  any  promises  from  you.  Con !"  said 
Mr.  Coulter,  without  turning  his  head,  "  we  know 
your  honesty  too  well  for  that.    Send  it  back  when 


810 


con  o'kegan  ;  OR, 


you  can,  and  according  m  yon  are  able,  bat  be  sary 
don't  distress  yourself,  my  poor  fellow !  trying  tc 
Bond  all  or  any  part  of  it  too  soon.  My  sisters  are 
in  no  need  of  the  money,  and  so  they  requested  me 
to  tell  you."  So  saying  he  quickened  his  pace  once 
more,  and  Con  seeing  that  he  desired  no  further 
par'ey,  stood  looking  after  him  till  he  waa  out  of 
sight,  murmuring  prayers  for  him  and  his.  When 
he  could  no  longer  see  him  he  turned  his  steps 
towards  his  present  home,  with  a  heavy  though 
hopeful  heart. 

As  Mr.  Coulter  followed  his  homeward  way,  think- 
ing of  the  humble  friend  with  whom  he  had  parted 
perhaps  forever,  he  was  accosted  by  a  sturdy  beg- 
gar, who  solicited  charity  in  the  richest  brogue  of 
southern  Ireland.  At  another  time  Mr.  Coulter 
would  have  conscientiously  refused  to  give  a  solitary 
cent,  telling  the  able-bodied  applicant  to  go  to  work, 
but  now  with  his  heart  full  of  the  O'Regan's,  and 
Peggy  Daly,  and  Tom  Dorragh,  and  the  harmless 
pedantry  of  Andy  Dwyer,  he  was  in  no  mood  for  re- 
fusing a  dole  to  one  of  their  countrymen.  So  he 
threw  the  man  a  quarter  and  walked  on.  Had  he 
witnessed  the  surprise  with  which  the  glittering  silver 
piece  was  picked  up,  and  the  fervor  of  gratitude  with 
which  a  prayer  for  him  was  sent  up  to  heaven — above 
all,  had  he  heard  the  thrilling  tone  in  which  the  poor 
man  muttered  "Now,  Kitty,  honey,  I've  got  the 
price  of  the  big  loaf  for  you  an'  the  children,"  he 
wo'Ud  have  gone  after  the  apparent  beggar  and 


.K  ;  OR, 

fon  are  able,  but  be  sary 
poor  fellow !  trying  to 
)o  soon.  My  sisters  are 
id  so  they  requested  me 
quickened  his  pace  once 
t  be  desired  no  further 
'  him  till  he  was  out  of 
'or  him  and  his.  When 
lim  he  turned  his  steps 
,  with   a  heavy  though 

lis  homeward  way,  think- 
ith  whom  he  had  parted 
;costed  by  a  sturdy  beg- 
n  the  richest  brogue  of 
>ther  time  Mr.  Coulter 
refused  to  give  a  solitary 
applicant  to  go  to  work, 
11  of  the  O'Regan's,  and 
rragh,  and  the  harmless 
le  was  in  no  mood  for  re- 
leir  countrymen.  So  he 
nd  walked  on.  Had  he 
which  the  glittering  silver 
i  fervor  of  gratitude  with 
jent  up  to  he&ven — above 
g  tone  in  which  the  poor 
ty,  honey,  I've  got  the 
rou  an'  the  children,"  he 
e  apparent  beggar  and 


EUIGRAKT  LIFE  IN  THE  ffR#  WORLD. 


81^ 


doubled  his  gift.  Little  did  the  warm-hearted  mer- 
chant think  that  the  poor  fellow  had  been  vainly 
looking  for  work  all  the  long  day,  and  had  only  so- 
licited  charity  when  all  else  failed,  in  order  to  bring 
home  sustenance  for  his  siek  vrife  and  her  famishing 
^Idren. 


T 


tl3 


CON   o'rMAH  I  99 J 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Pass  we  now  over  the  tearful  sepcration  of  Con 
and  Winny,  the  friendly  admonkions  of  Andy 
Dtryer,  the  ofb-repoated  good  wishes  of  hia  less 
imposing  helpmate,  and  the  promises  exacted  by 
those  left  behind  that  their  friends  would  be  sure 
to  let  them  "  know  eraotly  T/hat  kind  of  a  place  it 
was  that  they  were  going  to  as  coon  as  ever  they 
got  themselves  settled."  All  this  may  be  easily 
imagined,  as  also  the  flash  of  laudable  ambition 
momentarily  elicited  in  Tom  Derragh's  mind. 
"  Well  1"  said  he,  "  I  know  I'm  a  good-for-nothing 
fellow — that's  plain — if  I  weren't  I  might  be  able  to 
Btart  with  the  rest  of  you,  and  give  Barney  a  lift 
that  would  help  him  away,  too — I  know  there  a'nt 
nothing  would  please  poor  Peggy  so  well,  for  she 
never  took  to  this  here  way  of  life  we're  in——" 

"  No,  nor  never  will !"  interrupted  Ptggy,  with 
•tarlliug  energy. 

"Well!  I  know  it,  Peggy,  I  do,  and  you'll  see 
if  I  don't  set  about  trying  to  take  you  out  of  it. 
What  do  you  all  laugh  at? — a'nt  I  young  and  titrong 
yet?" 


t( 


EMIORAKT  MFK  IN  THB  NEW  WORLD. 


31S 


XVIII. 

arful  sepcration  of  Con 
admonkions  of  Andy 
}od  wishes  of  hia  less 
3  promises  exacted  by 
■  friends  would  be  sura 
/bat  kind  of  a  place  it 
to  £8  coon  as  ever  they 
UI  this  may  be  easily 
I  of  laudable  ambilion 
Pom  Derragh'a  mind. 
I'm  a  good-for-nothing 
ren't  I  might  be  able  to 
and  give  Barney  a  lift 
too — I  know  there  a'nt 
Peggy  BO  well,  for  she 

of  life  we're  in " 

iterrupted  Peggy,  with 

f,  I  do,  and  you'll  see 
to  take  you  out  of  it. 
i'nt  I  young  and  tttrong 


"Oh!  to  be  sure,"  said  Peggy,  with  her  nsaal 
•oolness  of  manner,  "  we  all  know  that — an'  yon 
were  young  an'  strong  ever  since  you  came  here. 
Sure  I  know  myself  you'll  turn  your  back  on  the 
taverns  for  the  time  to  come,  an'  give  up  dances 
and  raffles  an'  all  such  things,  an'  you'll  be  off  to 
the  West  in  no  time  at  all  with  lots  of  money  in 
one  pocket  an'  rae  in  the  other."  The  laugh  which 
followed  was  £;all  and  wormwood  to  Tom,  who  left 
the  place  "  in  a  pet,"  as  Anty  said,  after  a  silent 
shake  hands  with  Con  and  each  of  the  Bergens,  se- 
nior and  junior. 

Let  the  reader  draw  apon  his  imagination  for  tho 
long  and  tedious  journey,  (in  those  days  prinjoipally 
by  canal,)  the  surprise  and  delight  with  which  our 
travellers  first  beheld  the  broad  prairies  of  the 
West,  stretching  far  and  away  to  meet  the  bound- 
less horizon,  and  doited  here  and  there  with  patches 
of  woodland  whose  gigantic  timber  was  matter  of 
ceaseless  wonder.  Paul  had  written  to  his  brother 
from  Chicago,  letting  him  know  what  day  he  might 
expect  them  all,  and  so  the  first  person  he  saw  at 
the  office-door  in  Dubuque  was  Felix  himself,  who 
had  come  with  two  of  his  neighbors,  each  provided 
with  a  horse  and  wagon  to  convey  the  travellers 
home. 

"Home!"  repeated  Paul,  wi^  a  melancholy  shake 
of  the  head  whioh  made  Felix  laugh. 

"  Home !  yes,  to  be  sure,"  said  he,  "  isn't  my 
homo  yours  till  you  get  one  of  your  own?    And 


tu 


CON   O'KBOAN  :    OR, 


Ibis  decent  boy,  too,"  meaning  Con,  "he's  jnst  as 
welcome  as  yoa  are,  an'  I'm  sure  that's  as  much  as 
I  could  say.  And  so  this  iu  Nora,  and  these  are 
the  children — well  I  thanks  be  to  God  that  I  lived 
to  see  you  all  in  Dubuque.  You're  welcome  here, 
every  one  of  you,  and  may  the  Lord  grant  you  all 
sorts  of  happiness  here  and  hereafter !  Come  along 
here,  Nora,  and  take  hold  of  my  arm,  till  I  get  you 
all  something  to  eat  and  drink.  I'm  sure  you're 
a'most  worn  out  afier  such  a  long  journey.  Boys," 
to  his  companions,  "  will  you  just  go  and  give  the 
horses  a  bite  and  then  hurry  back  here,  for  we'll  be 
starting  as  soon  as  we  got  some  refreshment." 

Thus  bustling  and  talking  Felix  took  the  travel- 
lers to  an  eating-house,  where  he  ordered  a  good 
substantial  dinner  for  the  whole  party,  and  whilst  it 
was  being  prepared,  he  had  asked  at  least  a  hundred 
questions  about  "  home"  and  about  affairs  in  the 
East,  which  seemed  to  have  made  quite  a  noise  in 
that  part  of  the  world.  "  Them  natives,"  said  he, 
^  "  are  playing  the  mischief  there.  It's  a  wonder  to 
me  that  any  Irishman — if  he's  a  Oatholio — would 
live  amongst  such  a  set.  For  my  part,  I'd  sooner 
transport  myself  to  Botany  Bay.  I  wouldn't  put 
up  with  Bueh  doings  as  they  get  on  with — no,  not 
on  any  account — so  long  as  I  had  the  means  of  get- 
ting away  from  amongst  them." 

By  this  time  Thady  Landrigan  and  Pat  Mullini 
had  returned  and  the  dinner  was  soon  after  placed 
on  the  table.    This  was  a  welcome  sight  to  all  par* 


-ss^ssKiiiEi; 


»  ;  OB, 

ling  Con,  "he's  jast  as 
sure  that's  as  much  aa 
i8  Nora,  and  these  are 
be  to  God  that  I  lived 
You're  welcome  here, 
the  Lord  grant  you  all 
hereafter!  Come  along 
if  my  arm,  till  I  get  you 
irink.  I'm  sure  you're 
a  long  journey.  Boys," 
ou  just  go  and  give  the 
f  back  here,  for  we'll  be 
ome  refreshment." 
ig  Felix  took  the  travel- 
ere  he  ordered  a  good 
hole  party,  and  whilst  it 
asked  at  least  a  hundred 
nd  about  affairs  in  the 
e  made  quite  a  noise  in 
Them  natives,"  said  he, 
there.  It's  a  wonder  to 
'  he's  a  Catholio — would 
For  my  part,  I'd  sooner 
Y  Bay.  I  wouldn't  put 
ley  get  on  with — no,  not 
I  had  the  means  of  get- 
em." 

idrigan  and  Pat  MuHini 
!r  was  soon  afler  placed 
reloome  sight  to  all  par* 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IM  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


31b 


ties,  but  especially  to  the  children,  whose  appetites 
were  whetted  by  the  keen  air  and  their  long  ride 
over  the  prairie  in  an  open  stage  wagon.  There 
was  not  a  happi«r  man  in  Iowa  State  that  day  than 
Felix  Bergen,  as  he  dispensed  around  the  comforts 
for  which  he  was  to  pay.  He  would  glance  occa- 
sionally at  the  brother  from  whom  he  had  been  so 
long  separated  as  if  to  make  sure  that  he  was  actu- 
ally sitting  there  within  a  few  feet  of  him  and  at 
the  same  table,  then  his  eye  would  wander  to  Nora 
and  her  blooming  progeny,  and  his  joy  wuld  break 
out  in  words. 

«'  Bless  my  soul,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  yon  all  !— 
ani  so  will  Judy,  too,  for  many  a  long  look  out  she 
has  had  for  you  this  time  past.  And  I  declare, 
Paul,  you  stEnd  it  bravely,  after  all.  So  does  Nor&: 
too,  indeed,  though  you're  neither  so  young  nor  sc 
rosy— no,  nor  so  light-hearted,  neither,  Nora,  as 
when  I  seen  you  last.  You  were  young  then,— and 
BO  was  I  too !"  he  added  with  a  sigh ;  "  well  I  well ! 
there's  many  a  change  in  the  world  since  then,  and 
them  old  times  are  just  like  a  dream  as  we  look 
back  at  them.  Now  here's  Con  CTRegan,  and  he 
was  a  little  fellow  for  all  the  world  like  Patsey 
there  when  I  came  out  to  this  country.  I  was 
thinking  a«d  tiiinking  what  O'Regans  he  could  be 
of,  but  since  I  see  him  I  don't  need  to  ask.  You're 
ft  son  of  Tim  O'Regan— him  that  was  called  Tim 
3eg— aren't  you.  Con  ?" 
« I  am,  indeed,  then,"  said  Con,  speaking  with 


^••'^  T'^"^  *'  '^^y'" 


3lfl 


CON  c'ritqan  ;  OH, 


Buppiassed  emotion;  "that  was  just  my  father's 
name." 

"  And  your  mother  was  Susy  O'Connor,  of  the 
l»ke  side,  a  daughter  of  old  Oormao  ?" 

"  The  same !" 

"  I  knew  it,"  cried  Felix,  "  I  could  have  sworn 
to  you  anywhere  I'd  meet  you  by  reason  of  the  lilie- 
ncss  you  have  to  your  poor  father— Qod  rest  his 
soul!— well!  I  owed  you  a  good  turn  on  your 
father's  account,  and  though  I  didn't  know  at  the 
time  who  you  were,  I  chose  you  aa  good  a  lot  of 
land  as  if  I  was  choosing  it  for  myself  It's  pick 
and  choose  between  yours  and  Paul's.  But,  Lord 
bless  me,  Thady,  isn't  it  time  we  were  starting  P— 
run  you  and  Pat  and  get  out  the  wagons." 

A  few  minutes  saw  them  all  fairly  on  th6  road, 
and  after  a  pleasant  rde  •'f  some  three  I'ours,  they 
reached  the  snug  homestead  of  Felix  Bergeu,  where 
they  were  met  with  a  whole  concert  of  joyouk  gra- 
tulation  from  dogs  of  various  sizes,  oven  befv,^e 
Judy  herself  madt  her  appearance,  all  in  a  glow  witi 
heat  and  excitement,  for  she  had  been  cooking  most 
of  the  day.  The  ve  y  personification  of  cordial  wel- 
come was  Judv  Bergen  as  she  caught  Nora  in  her 
arms,  and  then  each  of  the  children  in  succession, 
kissing  them  over  and  over. 

AH  was  ,iow  joyous  buslle.  Judy  and  her  two 
rosy  handmaids  were  "  up  to  the  eyes  in  business," 
some  putting  away  the  luggage,  some  cooking,  and 
all  asking  numerous  questions  of  Con  about  <*  the  old 


v;  OH, 

t  was  just  my  father's 

Susy  O'Connor,  of  the 
Gormao  ?" 

:,  "  I  could  have  sworn 
ou  by  reason  of  the  like- 
tor  father — Qod  rest  hia 

a  good  turn  on  your 
h  I  didn't  know  at  the 
e  you  a3  good  a  lot  of 
it  for  myself.     It's  pick 

and  Paul's.    But,  Lord 
oae  we  were  starting  P — 
t  the  wagons." 
a  all  fairly  oa  the  road, 
'  some  threb  bours,  they 

of  Felix  Bergeii,  where 
s  concert  of  joyouh  qra- 
ious  sizes,  oven  befv,^e 
irance,  all  in  a  glow  witi 

had  been  cooking  most 
nifioation  of  cordial  wel- 
jhe  caught  Nora  in  her 

children  in  succession, 

le.  Judy  and  her  two 
0  the  eyes  in  business," 
:age,  some  cooking,  and 
IS  of  Con  about  "  tha  old 


EMICRANT  MFE  IN  THC  NRW  WORLD. 


311 


eountry"  from  which  he  was  the  latest  arrival.  One 
of  the  herdboys  was  sent  to  apprise  the  nearest 
neighbors  of  the  great  eveu-t,  and  long  before  night- 
fill  several  of  them  "dropt  in"  to  see  and  welcome 
the  new-comers.  Thady  Landrigan  and  Pat  Mul- 
litis  were,  of  coarse,  kept  for  the  evening,  and  right 
willing  they  were  to  stay.  When  conversation  be- 
gan to  flag  somewhat,  Felix  cleared  his  throat  for  a 
song  to  gratify  Paul's  oflen-ex pressed  wish.  "You 
used  to  be  a  great  singer,  Felix,"  said  he,  after  the 
song  was  sung,  "  an'  I  see  you're  nothing  failed  yet. 
But  that's  a  great  song  entirely — where  did  yuu 
happen  on  it  ?"  It  was  Morris's  fine  song,  "  Life  in 
the  West." 

"  Oh !  then,  myself  could  hardly  tell  you,"  said 
his  brother ;  "  I  b'lieve  I  learned  it  in  some  of  the 
cities.    It's  a  sort  of  a  favorite  of  mine." 

"  I  like  it  well  enough  myself,"  observed  Judy, 
''but  still  and  all  it's  not  one  of  our  own  songs. 
Can't  you  sing  '  The  Shannon  Side,'  or  '  Molly 
Astore,'  or  some  of  them  fine  old  songs  that  you 
ased  to  sing  at  home,  Felix,  dear  ?" 

"  Oh  bother  to  you,  Judy,"  cried  her  husband, 
good-humoredly ;  "  between  you  and  Paul,"  looking 
affectionately  at  his  brother,  "  you'd  keep  me  sing- 
ing all  night.  I  vow  to  goodness  but  you  would. 
Here's  Thady  Landrigan  hasn't  sung  e'er  a  song  yet. 
Come  now,  Thady !  give  us  '  The  Croppy  Boy' — will 
you  ?" 

"  Oh  bedad  I  will,  then,"  said  Thady,  "  if  it'll  be 


818 


CON    tf'HROAN  ;    OR, 


r 


the  laste  pleasure  to  the  company.     Bat  sure  my- 
eelf  has  no  voice  worth  speakin'  of.     Howsomever 
I'll  try,  at  any  rate.     Mrs.  Paul  Bergen,  ma'am,  did 
you  ever  hear  '  The  Croppy  Boy  V  " 

Nora  answered  in  the  affirmative,  but  expressed 
a  longing  desire  to  hear  it  again,  "  for,"  said  she,  '*  it 
does  my  heart  good  to  hear  any  of  the  old  songs,  an' 
OS  so  far  away  from  where  we  used  to  hear  them." 

The  song  was  sung  accordingly,  and  sung  wilh 
great  sweetness  and  its  full  measure  of  mournful 
pathos,  for  Thady  did  himself  injustice  when  he  said 
he  had  no  voice.  When  the  last  notes  of  the  plain 
live  melody  had  died  away,  Nora  wiped  her  eyes, 
and  heaved  a  sympathetic  sigh  responsive  to  the 
touching  "  farewell"  of  the  ill-fated  hero  of  the  song, 
one  of  the  Wexford  insurgents  of '98: 

"  Farewell,  father,  and  mother,  too, 
Sister  Mary,  I  had  but  you ; 
AcroBS  the  seas  I  would  freely  go. 
To  seek  a  fortune  for  nay  Mary  0!" 

Even  Paul  and  Con  had  to  clear  their  throats 
more  than  once  before  they  ventured  to  thank  Thady 
for  his  song.  "  Why,  Thady,"  said  Paul,  with  the 
familiarity  of  an  old  acquaintance,  "  if  I  could  only 
Bing  half  as  well  as  yon,  I'd  never  be  done  singin'." 

"  It's  well  he  can  do  thetsame,"  said  Pat  Mullins, 
who  was  a  cousin  of  Thady's,  winking  slily  at  Con, 
who  was  his  next  neighbor,  "  the  sorra  much  else 
he's  good  for,  the  same  boy." 

"Never  mind  him,  Con,"  cried  Thady,  with  a 


■i        *  »~T  ■"#i«i-'  ua^ 


r 


impany.     Bat  sure  my- 
ikin'  of.     Ho\V8omever 
'aul  Bergen,  ma'am,  did 
Boy  r  " 

rmative,  but  expressed 
;ain,  "  for,"  said  she,  "  it 
any  of  the  old  songs,  an' 
re  used  to  hear  them." 
•dingly,  and  sung  with 
I  measure  of  mournful 
If  injustice  when  be  said 
last  Hotes  of  tbe  plaiu 
,  Nora  wiped  her  eyes, 
sigh  responsive  to  the 
Ifated  hero  of  the  song, 
Its  of '98: 

mother,  too, 

it  you ; 

lid  freely  go, 

my  Mary  0 1" 

to  clear  their  throats 

entured  to  thank  Thady 

y,"  said  Paul,  with  the 

itanco,  "  if  I  could  only 

levcr  be  done  singin'." 

ame,"  said  Pat  Muliina, 

8,  winking  sliiy  at  Con, 

,  "  the  Borra  much  eUe 
I) 

"  cried  Thady,  with  a 


RHIORANT  LIFE    S  THE  KIW  WORLD. 


81% 


good-natured  laugh,  as  ho  bared  his  sinewy  arm  and 
held  it  up  for  examinatfbn ;  "  dou't  you  think  that 
arm  ought  to  be  able  to  do  something  ?  The  rap 
knows  well  enough  what  I  can  do,  and  you  and  Paul 
will  soon  know  it,  too,  please  God  I  for  there  isn't  aa 
Irish  settler  within  ten  miles  of  you  but  what  I  have 
given  a  hand  to  in  my  time.  Nobody  hereabouts 
thinks  his  house  right  put  together  unless  Thady 
Landrigan  is  at  the  doin'  of  it.  Only  get  the  logs 
for  your  houses  chopped  and  ready,  an'  I'm  the  boy 
that'll  put  them  in  their  places  in  less  than  no  time." 

"  Oh !  well,  begorra,  Thady,"  said  the  waggish 
Mullins,  "  if  a  lazy,  good-for-nothing  fellow  like  yon 
means  to  have  a  band  in  it,  we'll  all  do  what  we  can. 
We'll  g4t  Tommy  Doyle  and  Luke  Foley  and  a  lot 
of  them  fellows  up  in  that  direction,  and  here's  Billy 
Cogan  will  lend  a  hand,  too — won't  you,  Billy?" 
Billy  nodded  assent,  for  Billy  was  a  man  who  spoke 
little  and  thought  much. 

•«  Well !  then,"  resumed  Pat,  "  we'll  all  come  over 
here  some  day  this  week — let  me  see — Felix !  what 
day  will  be  the  best  for  us  to  come  ?" 

*'0h!  well,  whatever  day  answers  yourselves. 
Judy  here  will  be  ready  for  you  any  day  you  come. 
Sho'U  have  you  a  comfortable  bit  to  eat,  you  may  bo 
sure." 

"  Well !  I'm  no  great  cook,  but  I'll  do  my  best," 
said  Judy,  with  affected  modesty,  glancing,  at  th« 
same  time,  with  very  justifiable  pride  over  the  even- 
log  meal  wherewith  she  had  just  cpread  the  board; 


8M 


CON    0  REGAN  ;    OK, 


♦'  I'll  have  lots  of  country  cbeer  for  you,  and  tbat't 
all  I  can  promise."  Somehow  Judy's  promise  ap- 
peared to  give  geucral  satisfaction.  It  might  be 
that  the  princely  ham,  "  red  as  a  cherry,"  which 
graced  one  end  of  the  board,  and  the  dish  of  new- 
laid  eggs,  and  the  mescaun  of  ficdh  butter  and  th-e 
pitcher  of  rich  cream  which  flanked  the  files  of  gi- 
gantic tea-cups  at  the  other  end,  had  something  to 
do  in  the  cheerful  resignation  wherewith  "  the  neigh- 
bors" approved  of  Mrs.  Bergen's  culinary  labors,  not 
to  speak  of  the  huge  loaf  of  good  home-made  bread 
and  the  plate  of  cakes,  smoking  hot  from  the  oven. 
Certain  it  is  that  the  day  for  the  great  chopping  was 
speedily  settled  on,  and  it  was  arranged  that  men 
enough  should  be  gathered  to  chop  the  wood  for  the 
two  ho'.ises.  There  was  plenty  of  timber,  FoHx 
said,  on  both  farms,  but  there  was  also  a  large  pro- 
portion of  level  praine,  so  that  the  houses  could  be 
put  up  at  once. 

"  But  you  know,  Con  O'Regan's  goin'  to  live  with 
OS  for  a  while,"  said  Nora ;  "  we'll  not  let  him  live 
like  a  hermit  all  alone  by  himself.  It'll  be  time 
enough  for  him  to  go  to  his  own  house  next  yeai 
when  he'll  be  beginniu'  to  think  of  gettin'  out  hia 
family." 

"Oh!  well,  even  so,"  observed  Felix,  "its  best  to 
have  the  timber  chopped  and  shaped.  It'll  be  all 
the  better  for  lying  over  a  while  to  season,  and  next 
fall  we'll  get  the  boys  to  come  again  and  pat  np  the 


c 
s 

n 
11 
a 

0 

h 

y 

pi 
h( 

a| 

di 
vi 

0)1 

ta: 
tei 


r 


;  y«, 

leer  for  you,  and  that't 
>w  Judy's  promise  ap- 
sfaclion.  It  might  be 
i  as  a  cherry,"  which 
I,  and  tho  dish  of  new- 
)f  fresh  butter  and  th-e 
flanked  the  files  of  gi- 
end,  had  somethiog  to 
I  wherewith  "  the  ueigh- 
en's  culinary  labors,  not 
good  home-made  bread 
ing  hot  from  the  oven, 
the  great  chopping  was 
ras  arranged  that  men 
ochop  the  wood  for  the 
lenty  of  limber,  FeHx 
re  was  also  a  large  pro- 
lat  the  houses  could  be 

sgan's  goin'  to  live  with 
"  we'll  not  let  him  live 
himself.  It'll  be  time 
is  own  house  next  yeat 
;hink  of  gettin'  out  his 

rved  Felix,  "  its  best  to 
nd  shaped.  It'll  be  all 
hile  to  season,  and  next 
ae  again  and  pat  np  (he 


«MICRANT  l.irK  \H  THR  NFW  WORLD.  g^g 

house  for  Con.     But  there's  Judy  waiting  for  us,  I 
see." 

"  Sit  over  now,  all  of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Bergen, 
"and  see  if  you  can  eat  a  bit.  Come  here,  Nora, 
aianna  machree  !  and  sit  beside  wtc." 

"  VVhy,  then,  I  declare,"  said  Con,  "  we  haven't  tho 
least  occasion  for  anything  now.  We've  been  eatin' 
ever  since  we  came." 

"  Nonsense,  man !"  cried  Felix,  who  was  already 
doing  mighty  execution  on  the  ham  aforesaid  ;  "  non- 
sense,  man,  do  you  think  it's  in  the  city  you  are  still  ? 
You'll  have  to  work  hard  here,  I  tell  you,  so  you 
must  eat  whenever  you  get  the  chance.  Tho  air  ia 
mighty  keen  and  sharp  at  times  on  these  prairies, 
and  it'll  soon  give  you  your  appetite,  I  tell  you.  Sit 
over  now  at  once  and  don't  keep  us  waiting  on  your 
honors  all  day.  Now  Judy,  my  woman  I  be  sure 
you  give  us  a  rousing  cup  of  tea— if  you  don't,  mind 
you'll  catch  it." 

There  was  no  resisting  Felix's  whole-hearted  hos- 
pit&lity,  so  to  it  they  all  went,  and  it  did  Judy'g 
heart  good  to  see  how  well  her  good  things  were 
appreciated,  though  her  modesty  war  a  little  tried 
now  and  then  by  the  honest  encomiums  impartially 
divided  between  her  cookery  and  the  quality  of  her 
viands. 

The  evening  passed  merrily  and  quickly,  with 
many  detailed  remembrances  of  the  laud  so  far  dis- 
tant  and  so  dearly  loved  The  new-comers  were  en- 
tertained with  stories  of  Western  life  calculated  to 


Si2 


CON  o'bmaw  ;  <M 


T 


prepare  them  for  wliat  they  had  themselves  to  ex- 
pect,  the  dangers  to  be  avoided  and  the  proper 
course  to  be  pursued  in  forming  homes  and  home- 
steads, raising  crops,  and  all  the  rest.     At  IcHgth 
some  one  noticed  that  Janie  and  Palsey  were  nod- 
ding on  either  side  of  the  huge  chimney,  and  this 
-nns  the  signal  for  a  general  rising,  for,  "  sure  enough, 
it's  tired  they  must  all  be,  and  in  need  of  get  tin'  to 
their  beds."    A  coidial  good-night  was  thereupon 
exchanged,  and  the  hardy  settlers,  calling  to  them 
their  respective  dogs,  who  had  lain  slumbering  in 
various  corners  of  the  spacious  kitchen,  stepped  out 
into  the  clear  starlight  of  the  prairie,  with  hearts 
light  and  free  as  ihe  air  they  breathed.    What  though 
miles  lay  between  them  and  their  respective  homes, 
they  had  health  and  strengtli  and  that  buoyancy  of 
spirit  which  is  one  of  the  prevailing  characteristics 
of  their  race. 

"  But,  I  say,  Felix,'  said  our  friend  Thady,  turning 
back  on  his  heel  after  he  had  gone  a  few  steps ;  "  I 
Bay,  a'nt  Father  Doran  a-coming  next  Sunday?" 

"  Of  course,"  was  Felix's  answer ;  "  don't  you  know- 
it's  a  fortnight  since  he  was  here  ?  We'll  have  Mass, 
please  Qod,  a»  usual,  at  nine  o'clock,  so  look  sharp 
all  of  you  and  don't  be  comin'  in  when  it's  half  over. 
And,  do  you  hear,  Thady !"  going  after  him  to  the 
door,  "his  reverence  will  get  in  a  Saturday  evening 
this  time,  so  he  can  hear  any  one  that  wants  to  go  to 
confession.  I  was  near  forgettin'  to  tell  you,  and  he 
bid  me  do  it,  for  I  waa  talking  to- him  in  towa  la»4 


Vt\  OB 

iy  had  themselves  to  eX' 
avoided  and  the  proper 
rming  homes  and  home- 

all  the  rest.  At  length 
lie  and  Patsey  were  nod- 
i  huge  chimney,  and  this 

rising,  for,  "  sure  enoagh, 
and  in  need  of  geitin'  to 
;ood-night  was  thorenpon 
r  settlers,  calling  to  them 
>  had  lain  slumbering  in 
ciouB  kitchen,  stepped  out 
if  the  prairie,  with  hearts 
y  breathed.  What  though 
ad  their  respective  homos, 
gth  and  that  buoyancy  of 

prevailing  characteristics 

I  our  friend  Thady,  turning 
bad  gone  a  few  steps ;  "  I 
;oming  next  Sunday  ?" 
}  answer ;  "  don't  you  know 
is  here  ?  We'll  have  M  ass, 
ine  o'clock,  so  look  sharp 
min'  in  when  it's  half  over. 
Y !"  going  after  him  to  the 
get  in  a  Saturday  evening 
my  one  that  wants  to  go  to 
)rgettin'  to  toll  you,  and  l»e 
•Iking  to- him  in  town  laal 


EMIGKANT    LIFE    IN   THE    NEW    WORLD.  323 

Monday,  jMind  and  tell  aa  many  as  you  can.  now  ?  '» 
"  All  right ! "  responded  Thady,  and  away  he  went 
with  rapid  strides  to  overtake  his  companions, 
whistling  aa  he  went,  "  Old  Ireland,  a  long  farewell ! '' 
"So,  then,  the  priest  comes  here  once  a  fort- 
night?" said  Con,  as  Felix  took  a  seat  near  the 
blazing  hearth. 

Felii  replied  in  the  affirmative,  adding,  «  m  tho 
coarse  of  a  year  or  two  we're  in  hopes  of  having 
him  settled  here  for  good  and  all.  Father  Doran 
has  hard  enough  times  of  it,  poor  man,  for  he  has 
charge  of  two  or  three  missions,  and  the  sick  calls 
are  worse  than  all.  There's  times  when  he  has  to 
go  forty  or  fifty  miles  to  give  the  rites  of  the 
Church ■' 

"  Do  you  tell  me  so  ?"  cried  Paul,  in  blank  omaze- 
ment,  as  he  thought  of  the  parishes  in  Ireland,  per- 
haps  four  or  six  miles  square. 

"  I  do  tell  you  so,  and  it's  truth  I  tell  you.  Still 
he  doesn't  murmur ;  he  says  we  must  only  look 
straight  before  us,  and  that  God  will  make  it  all 
right  in  His  own  good  time.  He's  so  thankful— I 
mean  Father  Doran— to  see  the  people  settling  down 
here  on  farms,  and  putting  themselves  in  the  way  of 
serving  both  body  and  soul  that  he  thinks  no  trouble 
too  great." 

"  He's  a  good  priest,  thdn,  is  ho  ?"  in9uired  Con. 

"Good  !'•  cried  Judy,  "he's  one  of  the  finest  men 
you  ever  laid  an  eye  on.  He  has  no  more  prido  in 
kim  than  a  little'child.    You  kuo*  it's  with  ua  h« 


£•24 


CON  o'broan  ;  on, 


stops  wlienever  he  comes  the  way,  and  I  declare  t« 
you  he's  as  easy  pleased  as  any  of  our  laboring  men. 
The  Lord's  blessin'  be  about  him  1  But  he'll  be  here 
on  Saturday  evenin',  and  youU  see  what  he  is  your- 

selves." 

Here  a  yawn  from  Paul  reminded  the  careful 
mistress  of  the  mansion  that  the  travellers  needed 
rest.  "  I  b'lieve  we'll  not  mind  sayin'  the  Rosary 
the  night,"  said  she,  "  as  you're  all  so  dead  tired." 

"  Ah,  then,"  said  Nora,  rousing  herself  from  the 
drowsy  fit  into  which  she  had  been  falling,  "ah, 
then,  indeed,  it's  not  on  our  account  you'll  miss  it. 
It's  us  that  have  a  right  to  say  it  this  night,  when 
we've  got  safe  to  our  journey's  end." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Judy,  "  I'll  just  hang  on  a  skillet 
of  milk  to  make  you  a  good  posset.    It'll  be  ready 
by  the  time  the  Rosary's  said,  and  it'll  do  you  all 
the  good  in  life  just  to  take  it  before  you  lie  down." 
On  the  following  morning  when  our  little  party 
met  at  breakfast,  Felix  began  to  congratulate  his 
brother  on  the  fine  family  he  had.    Janie  was  still 
washing  and  combing  the  youngsters  in  the  inner 
room,  BO  that  the  children  were  not  within  hearing. 
Paul  replied  that  they  were  well  enough— clean, 
healthy  children,  he  thanked  (Jo.1,  "but  there's  that 
eldest  boy,"  said  he,  "  an'  I  cau  hardly  keep  him  in 
bounds,  at  all,  at  all." 
«  Why,  how  is  tliat,  Paul  ?" 
"  Oh,  then,  bad  cess  to  the  one  of  me  knows," 
Wturned  Paul,  dejectedly,  "he  Was  always  of  • 


ROAN  ;  olt, 

8  the  way,  and  I  declare  U 
as  any  of  our  laboring  men. 
jout  him  1  But  he'll  be  here 
i  you'll  see  what  he  is  jour- 

Paul  reminded  the  careful 
a  that  the  travellers  needed 
lot  mind  sayin'  the  Rosary 
I  you're  all  so  dead  tired." 
a,  rousing  herself  from  the 
she  had  been  falling,  "ah, 
I  our  account  you'll  miss  it. 
t  to  say  it  this  night,  when 
lurney's  end." 

ly,  "  I'll  just  hang  on  a  skillet 
good  posset.  It'll  be  ready 
y's  said,  and  it'll  do  you  all 
take  it  before  you  lie  down." 
orning  when  our  little  party 
t  began  to  congratulate  his 
mily  he  had.  Janie  was  still 
the  youngsters  in  the  inner 
ren  were  not  within  hearing. 
y  were  well  enough— clean, 
inked  (J<kI,  "but  there's  that 
an'  I  cau  hardly  keep  him  in 

Paul?" 

B  to  the  one  of  me  knows," 

edly,  "  he  ^as  always  of  • 


EM^ORA^'T  LIFE  IN  THE  NKW  WORLD. 


32ft 


■tirrin',  resolute  turn,  an'  I  suppose  after  pooi 
Peter's  death,  God  be  good  to  him  I  we  petted  him 
more  than  we  ought  to  have  done "         ■;     -^ 

"  NonsenHe,  man,"  interposed  Nora,  "  you  might 
aa  well  put  the  saddle  on  the  right  horse  at  oust. 
It  was  the  streets  that  made  him  as  he  is  —  the 
streets  an'  the  bad  company  he  spent  Lis  time  with. 
An  angel  from  heaven  w  ould  soon  be  made  as  black 
aa  the  devil— God  pardon  me  for  sayiu'  so ! — if  he 
was  allowed  the  run  of  the  streets  in  them  vagabond 
cities." 

"And  the  schools,  Mrs.  Bergen  I"  added  Con; 
"  Andy  D  wy er  told  me  enough  about  them  Common 
Schools,  as  they  call  them,  ay  1  enough  to  make  the 
hair  stand  on  one's  head." 

*'  Well  I  Andy  has  a  good  right  to  know,"  ob- 
served Nora,  in  answer;  "he's  a  sensible  mau  aud 
has  a  power  of  larnin'.  Somebo»^  Paul  here  could 
never  get  it  into  his  bead  that  there  was  any  great 
harm  in  them  sohools." 

"  Why,  how  could  they  be  as  bad  as  Andy  would 
make  them  out,"  replied  Paul,  in  an  apologetio  tone, 
"  when  the  olargy  aren't  against  them — at  least 
where  u«  oame  from  ?" 

«'  You  do  well  '0  put  that  in,"  said  his  brother, 
hastily,  "for  I've  often  heard  from  Father  Doran 
that  the  clargy  are  down  on  them  State  Schools 
everywhere,  as  far  as  Catholics  are  concerned.  He 
says  they're  first-rate  for  doing  the  devil's  work, 
luch  aa  making  away  with  the  good  seed  out  of  Ih* 


tmd 


w> 


1 


826 


COK  o'rman  ;  OR, 


soul  and  planting  everything  that's  bad  in  its  place. 
Ah !  God  bless  his  reverence,  he's  np  to  everything, 
and  I'll  engage  he'll  keep  the  wolf  from  his  flock 
when  once  he's  left  in  charge.  He  knows  what's 
good  for  the  people,  and  he'll  see  it  carried  oat,  or 
he'll  know  for  what.  Bnt  about  this  boy  of  yours, 
Paul!"  he  suddenly  added. 

."  Well,  yes,  Felix  I"  said  Paul,  with  a  heavy  sigh, 
«'  he's  a  great  trouble  to  me,  sure  enough.  God  di- 
rect me  what  to  do  with  him  !" 

«'  Humph!"  cried  Felix,  with  contemptuous  brevi- 
ty, "  don't  give  yourself  any  farther  trouble  about 
him.  Once  away  i'rom  his  bad  companions,  he'll 
soon  forget  the  tricks  he  lamed  among  them.  He'll 
soon  leave  off  his  pranks  here,  mind  I  tell  you! 
You  can  keep  him  down  noio  as  much  as  you  like, 
for  he'll  have  no  little  self-conceited  monkeys  to 
prime  him  up  with  bad  advice  oo*.  of  doors.  I'll 
give  you  a  hand,  too,  as  long  as  he's  in  the  house  with 
me,  and  you'll  see  he'll  soon  be  all  right^that  is, 
with  the  help  of  God." 

Daring  the  latter  part  of  this  disconrso,  Judy  had 
been  telling  Nora  flie  number  of  her  cows,  sheep, 
fowls,  &o.,  «fco.,  to  which  Nora  listened  with  great 
interest  and  no  small  admiration.  "  Why,  then,  but 
you  must  live  in  a  great  way  here  entirely  I"  she  ex* 
olaimel ;  "  will  it  ever  come  our  lot,  do  you  think 
'»<>  hav  3  anything  like  that  ?" 

"  T  >  be  sure  it  will  1"  cried  Judy,  •*  if  yon  only 
work  lot  it  aa  we  did,  an'  I'm  sure  yoa're  well 


^'<R.m'gtsa  mim^^^^¥miBi^i^aKa9^ifvm»!VPsp!^3^-  'iifs»st»uim»wt^iiXK^Ass^as^^»<^^^''' 


QAN  ;   OR, 

bing  that's  bad  in  its  place, 
snoe,  he's  np  to  everything, 
3p  the  wolf  from  his  flock 
charge.     He  knows  what's 

he'll  see  it  carried  oat,  or 
at  about  this  boy  of  yours, 
id. 
lid  Paul,  with  a  heavy  sigh, 

me,  sure  enough.     God  di- 
1  him !" 

t,  with  contemptuous  brevi- 
f  any  farther  trouble  about 

his  bad  companions,  he'll 
I  larned  among  them.  He'll 
dks  here,  mind  I  tell  you! 
irn  tioio  as  much  as  you  like, 

self-conceited  monkeys  to 
I  advice  ov*.  of  doors.  I'll 
long  as  he's  in  the  house  with 
.  soon  be  all  right — that  is, 

t  of  this  discourso,  Judy  had 
number  of  her  cows,  sheep, 
ih  Nora  listened  with  great 
Imiratton.  •' Why,  then,  but 
t  way  here  entirely  I"  she  ex* 
come  our  lot,  do  you  think 
hat?" 

1"  cried  Judy,  "  if  you  onl/ 
1,  an'  I'm  sure  you're  well 


RMIORAKr  LIFR  IN  THE  NB«    WOM^.- 


891 


enoagb  inclined.  It's  true  you're  not  the  stoutest 
in  the  world  yourself,  but  then  Paul's  a  strong, 
healthy  man,  and  the  children  will  soon  bo  a  great 
help  to  you.  If  you  had  only  a  couple  of  years 
over  your  head,  there  would  be  no  fear  of  you,  and 
then  you'll  not  be  as  hard  np  as  many  others,  bekase 
Felix  and  myself  are  so  near  you  here.  Thanks  be 
to  God  I  we  ha/e  enough  and  to  spare.  Slill  and 
all,  Nora,  there's  many  a  one  we  see  here  that's  just 
hard  enough  set  to  get  through  the  first  year  or  so 
till  the  crops  come  in  cleverly  and  the  bit  of  a  house 
is  made  fit  to  live  in.  But  then,  sure,  isn't  it  worth 
their  while  to  put  np  with  some  hardship  for  a  while 
when  they'll  have  the  benefit  of  it  all  their  life  and 
their  children  after  them  P  The  first  is  always  the 
worst  with  people  here,  but  when  they're  fairl/ 
started  they  get  on,  most  of  there,  as  well  as  heart 
could  wish.  Here  are  the  children  coming  in  now. 
Won't  yon  give  them  some  of  this  nice  milk  por- 
ridge before  their  tea  ?  I  made  it  a  purpose  for 
them." 

"  Indeed  then  I  will,"  said  Nora,  gratefully,  "  an' 
it's  it  that'll  be  the  treat  fur  them  I" 

Breakfast  being  over,  Folix  asked  Paul  and  Con 
if  they  wouldn't  like  to  go  and  see  their  respective 
farms.  "  I  have  some  oats  to  sow,"  said  he,  "  before 
I  go,  but  all  I  have  to  do  won't  take  me  more  than  • 
couple  of  hours." 

"And  we'll  give  you  a  hand  both  of  us,"  said 
Con ;  **  it'll  do  our  hearts  good  I'm  sure  to  get  out 


mmmfi'»sbft'^'^^=-^^~ 


IS8 


COM    O'REOAN  ;    Uky 


to  work  in  the  fields  again.    You'll  give  as  our  firat 
lesson  in  Western  fanning." 

"And  me,  too,"  cried  Patsey,  making  liaste  to 
bolt  down  the  last  spoonfuls  of  his  porridge ;  "  I 
guess  I'll  go,  too." 

"  No,  Patsey,"  said  his  mother,  "  you1l  stay  with 
Aunty  ail'  me  for  this  time.  Some  other  day  you  can 
go  out  with  the  men.  I  want  you  to  play  with  Jim 
an'  the  baby." 

"  No,  I  won't,"  said  Patsey,  with  all  his  precocious 
firmness;  "Jane  may  play  with  the  young  ones. 
I'll  go  with  father  and  uncle." 

«'  Patsey !"  said  his  father,  sternly,  "  you  can't  go 
with  us  when  your  mother  wants  you  here." 

"  Yes  I  I  will  go !"  shouted  the  boy,  putting  him 
self  into  an  attitude ;  "  I  never  saw  folks  working  in 
fields  and  I  want  to  go  see  them  now." 

«'  What's  that  you  say,  Patsey,"  said  his  undo, 
slowly  ;  "do  you  mean  to  say  that  you'll  not  obey 
either  your  father  or  mother  t" 

"  I  want  to  go  out  with  you,"  repeated  Patsey, 

doggedly. 
"  Didn't  your  father  and  mother  both  forbid  you 

to  go?" 

"  Oh !  that  a'nt  any  matter  1— I  can  go  if  I  like." 
JTow  Patsey  calculated  on  having  an  immunity  from       o 
f uniahment  at.  least  for  some  days  afler  arriving  ^^  I  e 
Iris  uncle's,  and  he  wished  to  show  off  as  indepen-       r 
ieotly  as  possible,  but  bis  onole  fixed  a  look  on  him 


IN  ;  ys 
YouUl  give  M  oar  firal 

fatsey,  making  haste  to 
fuU  of  his  porridge  ;  "  I 

notber,  "  you*ll  stay  with 

Some  other  day  you  can 

ant  you  to  play  with  Jim 

ley,  with  all  bis  precooious 

y  with  the  young  ones. 

le." 

jr,  Bteruly,  "  you  can't  go 

'  waotB  you  here." 

ited  the  boy,  putting  him 

ever  saw  folks  working  in 

s  them  now." 
Pataey,"  aaid  his  undo, 
say  that  you'll  not  obey 

er?" 

,h  you,"  repeated  Pataey, 

i  mother  both  forbid  you 

.ter ! — I  can  go  if  I  like." 
having  an  immunity  from 
ime  days  after  arriving  at 
1  to  show  off  as  indepen- 
i  oQole  fixed  a  look  on  him 


KMIGRAN'T  IJFE  IN  THR  NRW  WORIJ). 


33» 


that  made  him  quail  as  he  had  hardly  ever  quailed 
before. 

"  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  it  ia,  my  fine  fellow  !* 
aaid  Felix,  putting  on  a  stern  dignity  that  was  by  no 
means  his  own,  and  speaking  in  slow,  measured  ao- 
neatp,  "never  let  me  hear  you  speak  so  again,  or  I'll 
make  your  father  hire  you  out  to  a  farmer  to  mind 
the  cattle,  where  you'll  have  to  sleep  in  an  r  nt  house 
all  alone  by  yourself.  We'll  neither  beat  mr  abuse 
you,  but  we'll  turn  you  over  to  the  Btrar.^,ers  where 
you'll  soon  be  broken  in." 

Patsey  stood  looking  up  at  his  i  o. ")  in  gap:ng 
wonder,  his  mouth  and  eyes  wide  opt-n,  %iid  a  sovt 
of  half-smile  on  his  face.  He  e\  dent.y  wished  to 
believe  his  uncle  only  in  jest.  1  ooking  lirtively 
round,  too,  his  quiuk  eye  detected  i\  sroilv  on  Con's 
face,  as  he  stood  rather  behind  PaUi,  and  that  con- 
firmed the  astute  urchin  in  his  preconceived  notion. 
Assuming,  therefore,  a  staggering  tone,  he  turned 
again  to  his  uncle,  det>Tn.  ned  to  let  him  see  that  hx^ 
had  caught  a  Tartar.  '•  Ha !  ha  I  uoole  I  I  a'nt  so 
green  as  you  take  me  /or.  1  guess  I  know  about  aa 
much  as  other  folks.  Tf  u  can't  do  we  so  easy  a% 
you  think.    I  tell  you  I  will  go  I" 

*'  And  I  tell  you, you  shan't!"  returned  the  unde, 
now  really  angry,  while  Judy  raised  her  hands  and 
eyes  in  mute  horror ;  "  j  ist  put  these  city  tricks 
out  of  your  head  altof^ether,  my  good  boy,  or  so 
sure  as  my  name  ia  Felix  Bergen,  I'll  do  as  I  aaid 
thio  very  day.    Off  yo i  go,  depend  upon  it!     You 


S30 


CON   O^BKOAN  ;   OK, 


needn't  look  at  me  that  way,  for  I  tell  yoa  I'm  in 
earnest,  as  you'll  find  to  your  cost  before  you're 
many  days  older.  I'll  not  have  a  curse  drawn  down 
on  my  little  place  by  harboring  a  disobedient,  un- 
dutiful  son.  Mind  that  now,  my  boy,  and  just  take 
your  choice.  Either  make  up  your  mind  to  obey 
your  father  and  mother — aye,  and  your  aunt  and  me, 
too,  or  I'll  saddle  a  horse  this  very  evening,  and 
leave  yon  over  with  Jack  Quigley,  five  or  six  miles 
across  the  prairie.  He's  just  in  want  of  a  little  fel- 
low about  your  size  to  herd  his  sheep  and  cattle. 
He's  the  man  will  soon  settle  you,  depend  upon  it." 

"  Ah  I  then,  Felix  dear,  don't  be  so  hard  on  the 
child,"  interrupted  Judy ;  "  he  didn't  mean  any  harm, 
I  know  well  enough,  an'  I'll  go  bail  for  him  that  he'll 
not  act  so  again.  If  he  does,  you  may  have  your 
own  way  with  him,  but  a  first  offence  ought  to  be 
passed  over." 

"  Ah !  Qod  help  your  wit,  Judy,"  said  Nora,  sadly, 
**  it's  little  you  know  about  the  same  lad.  If  it  was 
the  first  offence  of  the  kind  for  him,  I'd  be  the  first 
to  put  in  a  word  for  him,  but  och  I  och !  it  isn't  the 
first  of  a  hundred.  He  has  no  more  respect  for 
what  we  say  to  him  than  if  we  were  two  black  nig- 
gers." An-  by  this  time  her  tears  attested  the  sia- 
eerity  and  depth  of  her  affliction. 

"  Do  you  see  that  now,  Patsey  T'  said  his  uncle, 
in  a  husky  voice ;  "  do  you  see  that  ? — what  punish- 
ment would  be  too  great  for  a  son  that  grieves  hit 
mother's  heart  by  his  nndutiful  conduct?— I  tell 


IAN  ;   OR, 

way,  for  I  tell  yoa  I'm  ia 

your  cost  before  you're 

have  a  curse  drawn  down 

joring  a  disobedieut,  un> 

>w,  my  boy,  and  just  take 

:e  up  your  mind  to  obey 

lye,  and  your  aunt  and  me, 

ie  this  very  evening,  and 

Quigley,  five  or  six  miles 

just  in  want  of  a  iittle  f«l- 

3rd  bis  sheep  and  cattle. 

Itle  yon,  depend  apon  it." 

don't  be  so  hard  on  tlie 

"  be  didn't  mean  any  harm, 

11  go  bail  for  him  that  he'll 

ioes,  you  may  have  your 

first  offence  ought  to  be 

t,  Judy,"  said  Nora,  sadly, 
It  the  same  lad.  If  it  teas 
id  for  him,  I'd  be  the  first 
but  och  I  ooh !  it  isn't  the 
has  no  more  respect  for 
if  we  were  two  black  nig- 
her  tears  attested  the  sin- 
liction. 

Patseyf"  said  his  uncle, 
1  see  that  ? — what  punish- 
for  a  son  that  grieves  his 
udutiful  conduct? — I  tell 


EMIORAKT  UrR  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


8S1 


you  there's  not  a  boy  round  here  that  wouldn't 
ehun  you  like  a  plague  if  they  knew  you  to  turn 
your  tongue  on  father  or  mother." 

Between  his  mother's  tears  and  his  uncle's  threats. 
Patsey  was  fairly  at  a  stand,  and  the  natural  obsti- 
nacy of  his  disposition  was  softened  down.  Going 
over  to  his  mother  he  said  in  a  low  tone :  "  Mother, 
just  tell  uncle,  will  you  ?  that  I  won't  act  so  again. 
Don't  cry  so — don't  now— I  don't  like  to  see  you 
cry."  A  tender  caress  was  the  mother's  answer,  id 
she  bad  no  need  to  repeat  the  message  to  Felix,  i  ' 
that  worthy  man  had  heard  it,  every  word,  and  the 
smile  which  brightened  his  sun-browned  cheek  said 
as  plainly  as  possible,  "  My  scheme  has  succeeded 
even  better  than  I  expected."  So  winking  at  Con 
and  Paul,  he  took  down  his  hat,  and  telling  Patsey 
he  was  glad  to  see  him  coming  to  his  senses,  he  led 
the  way  to  one  of  the  out-houses  where  the  farming 
utensils  were  kept. 

"  Well,  Paul  1"  said  he,  "  what  do  yon  think  of 
that  for  a  beginning  ?" 

"  First-rate,  Felix  ! — I  declare  you  brought  him 
to  in  doable  quick  time,  an'  without  as  much  as  one 
stroke  !'* 

"Oh!  as  to  the  strokes,"  observed  Felix,  "I 
wouldn't  on  any  account  Uy  a  band  on  him — that's 
your  business  and  his  mother's,  not  mine.  But  I 
just  meant  to  let  him  see  that  such  work  would 
never  do  here.  That's  all.  And  mark  my  words, 
he'll  not  forget  the  lesson  in  haste,  beoause  he'U 


882 


CON    O'llRGAiT  ;    OR, 


find  it  backed  up  by  the  habits  of  the  people  all 
round  him.  He'll  not  be  long  here  till  he  gets 
ashamed  of  his  notions  of  independence.  He  oame 
here  yesterday  a  little  man,  but  we'll  soon  make 
him  a  little  ioy.  Come  along  now,  both  of  you. 
We've  lost  some  time,  but  we  can  soon  make  up 
for  it — many  hands,  you  know,  make  light  work, 
8nd|  when  the  oats  is  safe  in  the  ground,  we'll  get 
a  bit  of  dinner,  and  then  hurrah  !  for  your  farms  !— 
I'll  show  you  this  very  day  the  greatest  sight  you 
ever  saw,  that  is,  a  little  estate  of  your  own  that 
neither  landlord,  nor  proctor,  nor  cess-man,  nor  tax- 
g.athcrer,  can  ever  lay  claim  to.  Isn't  that  worth 
something  f " 

"  And  who  may  I  thank  for  it  ?"  said  Paul,  in  a 
tremulous  voice. 

*<  Pooh  !  pooh  I'  cried  Felix,  "  I  suppose  you'll  be 
for  thanking  me,  and  Cou  there  his  good  friends  in 
the  city,  but  it's  God  that  has  done  it  all.  Thank 
Him,  then,  and  not  me.  Blessed  be  His  name,  Ho 
has  done  as  much  for  me  as  for  any  one,  and  I'm 
sure  there's  no  one  less  deserving  of  His  iavors. 
But  here  we  are — here's  the  ground  all  ready,  and 
fine  soil  yon  see  it  is,  too.  So  now  let  us  set  to  at 
onoe  and  we'U  be  through  the  aooner." 


OR, 


BMIORANT  l.irE  IX  THE  NIW  WORLD. 


tst 


(its  of  tbe  people  all 
Dg  here  till  he  gels 
spendenoe.  He  came 
but  we'll  soon  make 
g  now,  both  of  you. 
e  cau  soon  make  up 
>w,  make  light  work, 
the  ground,  we'll  get 
ih  !  for  your  farms  1 — 
le  greatest  sight  you 
Xe  of  your  own  that 
nor  oess-man,  nor  tax- 
to.    Isn't  that  worth 

r  it  ?"  said  Paul,  in  a 

,  "  I  suppose  yoM'U  b« 
e  his  good  friends  in 
8  done  it  all.  Thank 
ised  be  His  name,  He 
for  any  one,  and  I'm 
erving  of  His  favors, 
ground  all  ready,  and 
0  now  let  us  set  to  at 


•ooner. 


)• 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Whkn  Con  and  Paul  were  taken  in  snccession  to 
survey  their  new  possessions,  they  could  hardly  be- 
lieve their  eyes  that  it  was  wild  land  on  which  they 
looked.  The  undulating  surface  of  the  prairie  was 
covered  with  the  delicate  herbage  of  Spring,  green 
and  soft  as  that  which  carpets  the  valleys  of  the 
Emerald  Isle.  The  fairest  and  brightest-tinted  flow- 
ers were  scattered  around  in  rich  profusion,  and 
altogether,  the  scene  had  that  pastoral  character 
which  belonps  to  a  high  state  of  cultivation.  At  tho 
northern  ext  emity  of  the  two  farms  was  a  grove  of 
considerable  extent,  its  strangely-mingled  foliage 
presenting  Ol  e  mass  of  freshest  verdure  of  every 
shade  and  tint.*     In  addition  to  this  there  was  a 

*<■  The  attraction  of  the  prairie  consials  in  ita  extent,  its  car- 
pet of  verdure  and  flowers,  its  undulating  surface,  its  grores, 
and  the  fioge  of  timber  by  which  it  is  surrounded."  ..."  In 
thn  Spring  of  the  year,  when  the  young  grass  has  jn«t  cwered 
the  ground  wiih  a  carpet  of  delicate  green,  and  especially  if 
Iho  sun  Is  rising  from  behind  a  distant  swell  of  the  plain  and 
glitccring  upon  the  dew  drops,  no  scene  can  be  more  lonely 
to  the  cyo."  ..."  Tho  gaiety  of  tha  prairie,  iu  embellish- 


S84 


COM    o'ltRGAN  ;    OH, 


T 


r.nall  clump  of  trees  on  Con's  firm,  and  where  their 
shade  fell  deepest  across  the  plain,  his  fertile  imagi- 
nation  instantly  reared  a  smiling  cottage,  the  futnre 
home  of  all  he  loved  on  earth.  His  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  but  they  were  not  tears  of  sadness,  for  his 
heart  was  full  of  joyous  anticipation. 

As  for  Pan],  he  could  only  gaze,  and  wonder,  and 
admire.  Everything  was  so  new  to  him,  so  differ- 
ent from  what  he  had  expected,  that  the  whole  seem- 
ed a  pleasing  dream  rather  than  a  broad  reality. 
And  Felix  stood  and  looked  alternately  at  both,  en- 
joying their  surprise,  a  benevolent  smile  brightening 
his  wer.thor-bronzed  features,  and  his  hands  crossed 
behind  his  back.  At  last  Paul  turned  towards  him, 
with  a  "  Well !  well !  if  this  doesn't  bate  K[\ !" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Feliy 

Why,  to  think  of  me  bein'  the  owner  of  such  a 
farm  as  this !— me  that  had  to  pay  sk  high  rent  for  a 
cellar  in  Hope  street  only  two  wfleks  ago  I  Why, 
Felix,  a  body  has  nothing  to  do  bnt  just  dig  up  the 
ground  an'  put  in  his  crop  I" 

"  Not  even  that,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Felix,  with 
a  chuckling  laugh,  "  you  haven't  to  do  that  same — 
you  have  only  to  get  it  ploughed  up  once,  and  then 
sow  yonr  seed  in  drills — a  second  ploaghing  covers 
it  up,  and  then  the  work  is  done.     But  then  you 

ments,  a^d  the  absence  of  the  gtoam  and  savage  wi1iJne«g  of 
the  forest,  all  contribnla  to  dispel  the  fee'ins  of  lonrliiwM 
which  naually  creeps  orer  the  mind  of  the  aolUary  trft»eller  In 
the  wilderneji."— /owa  as  It  /s  »>  teiJS,  p.  26. 


OR, 

arm,  nn<\  where  their 
lin,  his  fertile  imagi- 
ig  cottage,  the  future 
His  eyes  filled  with 
J  of  sadness,  for  his 
ation, 

aze,  and  wonder,  and 
ew  to  him,  so  differ- 
that  the  whole  seem- 
han  a  broad  reality, 
ernately  at  both,  en- 
ent  smile  brighteninn 
nd  his  hands  crossed 
turned  towards  him, 
ssn't  bate  All !" 
1  Feliy 

the  owner  of  such  a 
>ay  ».  high  rent  for  a 
>  weeks  ago  I  Why, 
)  bit  just  dig  up  the 

ow,"  said  Felix,  with 
't  to  do  that  same — 
3d  up  onoe,  and  then 
nd  ploQghing  covers 
one.     But  then  yoti 

and  iarage  wiliine«8  of 
ihe  fee'in^  of  lonplitwsi 
r  the  lolitarjr  traveller  in 
S5,  p.  28. 


r 


EJIIOBAUT  I.ir«  IK  TH«  MEW  WORLD. 


335 


have  to  fence  it  in,  and  that's  the  greatest  difficulty 
you'll  have,  but  you'll  have  good  help  at  it,  please 
God,  and  we'll  get  some  of  the  fenoe-rails  in  that 
grove  for  both  your  lots.     The  rest  we  can  get  from 
f  man  a  few  miles  down  from  here  that  I  trade  with 
^rm  time  to  time.     He  has  lots  of  that  article,  and 
heTakes  grain  or  cattle,  or  most  any  sort  of  produce 
in  exchange.     Well,  Con  1  what  are  you  thinking  of  ? 
I  see  you're  eyeing  that  cluster  of  trees  very  atten- 
tively-are  you  thinking  of  cutting  thorn  down,  or 

"^rol'i  by  the  laws,  no!"  replied  Con,  with  on 
wonted  energy;  "I  was  thiukin'  what  a  beautiful 
place  that'll  be  for  the  house,  an'  how  joyful  poor 
^^nny  an'  the  wife  will  be  when  they  see  it  all^ 
Well  sure  enough,  but  Ood  is  good  to  us  !-and  the 
1   of  it  iB."  added  Con.  quickly,  "  that  we'll  be  all 
our  own—ter.  here.    There's  nobody  to  drive  or 
Tsh  us,  an'  if  we  work,  it'll  be  for  ourselves,  not  for 
Sirs!    Now.  Paul,  if  we  could  only  see  Andy 
D wyer,  and  Barney  Brady  here,  and  poor  Tom  Der- 
raeh,  we'd  be  all  right  1" 

u  Oh ,  well,  as  to  that,"  said  the  more  phlegmatic 
Paul,  '•  we  may  thank  Qod  that  we're  here  ourselves. 

Everybody  can't  be  in  it  1"  -,     . ,     t 

fL  laughed.  "That's  you  all  over,  Paul!  I 
so.  that  youVe  still  the  same  cool  customer  that  you 
always  were.  But  I  wish  to  Qod,"  he  added,  with 
tuddeu  seriousness, .'  that  we  had  more  o  our  own 
people  out  here.    This  ia  the  place  for  them,  and 


Z'dB 


CON  o'regan  ;  OR, 


not  the  Bmdky,  dirty  suburbs  of  tbe  oities,  wher« 
they're  smothered  for  the  want  of  pure  air,  and, 
worse  than  all,  where  they  get  into  all  sorts  of  ugly 
Borapes  by  reason  of  the  bad  company  they  fall  in 
■with,  and  the  bad  example  they  see  wherever  they 
turn.  I  declare  to  you  when  I  get  a-thinking  of  all 
these  things,  I  feel  so  mad  at  them  for  being  blind- 
led  as  they  are,  that  I  oould  almost  deny  them  for 
my  countrymen,  but,  then,  again,  when  I  come  to 
think  better  of  it,  sure  it  isn't  them  that's  in  fault,  it 
all  comes  from  their  simplicity,  and  sometimes,  I 
suppose,  for  the  want  of  means.  But  here's  Patsey, 
I  protest.  Ilillo !  Patsey,  what's  the  matter  ?" 
The  little  fellow  could  hardly  draw  his  breath. 

"  My  aunt— sent — sent  me — to  tell  you — to  tell  you 
— that  tbe  priest's  come.     She  wants  you  home — aa 

fast  as  you  can  !" 

"  All  right,  Patsey ! — but  how  did   you  find  us 

out — ch  !  my  little  man  ?" 
*'  Oh !  sure  wasn't  I  standing  on  the  little  hill  near 

the  house  looking  after  you,  and  sometimes  I  fuU 

like  following  you,  but — but " 

"  But  you  were  afraid,"  said  his  nncle,  laughing 

and  winking  at  Con. 

"  Well !  I  wan't  afraid,  uncle,  but  I  thought  you 

might  be  vexed,  so  I  just  staid  where  I  was,  till 

Aunty  called  Dinny  to  send  afu  r  you,  and  so  I  told 

her  which  way  you  went,  and  that  I'd  go." 
"  That's  a  good  boy,  Patsey,"  said  his  father,  pat- 

liag  his  head, "  never  do  anything  that  you  think 


IHIORANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


881 


bs  of  tbe  oities,  wfaer* 
want  of  pure  air,  and, 
et  into  all  sorts  of  ugly 
d  company  they  fall  in 
they  see  wherever  they 
d  I  get  a-thinking  of  all 
t  them  for  being  blind - 
1  almost  deny  them  for 
again,  when  I  come  to 
't  them  that's  in  fiviilt,  it 
icity,  and  sometimes,  I 
ms.  But  here'd  Patsey, 
rhat'd  the  matter  ?" 
lardly  draw  his  breath, 
-to  tell  you — to  tell  you 
Ihe  wants  you  home — as 

\,  how  did  you  find  us 

ing  on  the  little  hill  near 
n,  and  sometimea  I  fu't 

said  bis  nncle,  laughing 

ncle,  but  I  thought  you 
staid  where  I  was,  till 
afttr  yon,  and  so  I  tolJ 

id  that  I'd  go." 

ley,"  said  his  father,  pat- 

nything  that  you  think 


woald  displease  your  father  or  mother,  or  your 
uncle  or  aunt." 

"  Why,  father,"  said  Patsey,  lowering  his  voice 
somewhat,  "  only  think!  Dinny  tells  me  that  no  boy 
round  about  here  would  keep  company  with  any 
one  that  disobeyed  father  or  mother — he  says  a  boy 
that  did  that  would  be  called  a  black  sheep.  A'nt 
it  queer,  father?" 

"  Not  a  bit,  Patsey,  not  a  bit,"  said  his  father, 
endeavoring  to  conceal  his  exultation ;  "  that's  the 
way  it  is  amongst  Christians  everywhere.  At 
home  in  Ireland,  such  a  thing  is  hardly  ever  heard 
of  as  children,  either  boys  or  girls,  turnin'  their 
tongue  on  their  parents.  If  they  did  they'd  be 
made  an  example  of.  Mind  now  and  be  nice  and 
mannerly  when  the  priest  speaks  to  you.  Don't 
forget  who  he  is  1" 

Patsey  then  fell  behind  to  join  Con  who  was 
walking  on  alone  thinking  of  the  almost  measureless 
distance  which  lay  between  him  and  those  he  loved 
the  best.  Patsey,  however,  was  too  full  of  his  own 
subject  to  pay  mcch  attention  to  the  other's  ab« 
straoted  air. 

•'  Well,  now.  Con,  a'nt  it  queer ?'  he  began. 

"What?"  demanded  Con,  in  a  half-oonscioua 
tone. 

"  Why,  there's  Dinny,  the  herd-boy,  has  jest  bin 
a  telling  me  that  boys  musn't  dare  talk  back  to 
father  or  mother  here.    It  seems  none  of  the  boyi 


838 


CON  o'kwjam  ;  OK, 


hereabout,  would  play  with  a  feller  that  did,  foi 
that  it  breaks  the  foaith  commandment.' 

«'  Well !  and  what  is  there  strange  in  that  ?  said 
Con,  now  much  interested  in  the  subject;  "didn't 
you  know  before  Dinny  told  you,  that  it  was  very 
wrong,  and  a  great  sin,  to  disobey  either  of  your 

^"  0?  yes,  I  heard  it,"  said  Patsey,  with  a  careless 
toss  of  his  head,  "  but  I  didn't  mind-it  was  father 
and  mother  that  told  me,  and  you  know  theyd  say 
it  anyhow,  but  then  Jake  Hampton  and   all  the 
others  said  it  was  all  moonshine,  and  that  a  father 
or  mother  had  no  right  to  flog  a  feller  because  he 
happened  to  be  their  son.    They  said  there  was  no 
law  for  it,  and  that  no  boy  need  stand   it,  if  he 
hadn't  a  mind  to.    I  guess  they  were  about  right 
after  all,  and  I'm  real  sorry  I  ever  came  here  at  all 
—I  am  '.—Jake  Hampton  wanted  me  not  to,  and  if 
I  was  only  back  again,  you'd  never  catch  me  in 
such  a  place,  I  tell  you." 

«'  Why,  Patsey  '."  cried  Con,  in  amaBement,  l 
thought  you  were  gettiag  ever  so  good,  and  would 
never  be  a  bad,  disorderly  boy  again  !" 

"Oh!  that's  all  a  sham,"  was  Patsey's  quick 
responoe ;  "  I  wanted  to  *  uncle,  you  know,  and  so 
I  jest  made  believe  that  I  meant  to  do  what  they  d 
tell  me  for  the  time  to  come,  but  I  guess  I'll  be  off 
from  here  when  I  get  the  chance,  and  go  back  to 
Jake  Hampton.    But  mind  you  don't  tell,  Con  1"  h« 


;  OK, 

1  a  feller  thai  did,  foi 
imandment." 
B  strange  in  that  ?"  «a>d 
in  the  subject;  "didn't 
.  you,  that  it  was  very 
disobey  either  of  your 

1  Patsey,  with  a  careless 
In't  mind— it  was  father 
ad  you  know  they'd  say 
Hampton   and   all  the 
shine,  and  that  a  father 
flog  a  feller  because  he 
They  said  there  was  no 
toy  need  stand  it,  if  he 
I  they  were  about  right 
y  I  ever  came  here  at  all 
ranted  me  not  to,  and  if 
ou'd  never  catch  me  in 

Con,  in  amaeement,  "  I 
ever  so  good,  and  would 

boy  again  !" 

m,"    was  Patsey's  quick 

>  uncle,  you  know,  and  sr 

meant  to  do  what  they'd 
ne,  but  I  guess  I'll  be  off 
16  chance,  and  go  back  to 
d  you  don't  tell,  Con  1"  h« 


BMIORANT  LirtS  IN  THE  KRW  WORM). 


S89 


quickly  added, «'  if  you  do — I  shan't  ever  forgive 
yon — that's  all  I" 

They  were  now  at  the  door,  so  Con  merely 
nodded  as  he  followed  the  precocious  urchin  into 
the  house. 

Father  Doran  was  seated  near  the  fire  in  a  high- 
backed  chair  of  rustic  fashion.  He  was  a  man  in 
the  decline  of  life,  but  still  hale  and  hearty,  as  any 
one  might  see  at  a  glance  from  the  healthy  hue  of 
his  weather-darkened  features  and  the  quick  intelli- 
gence of  his  clear  grey  eyes,  gleaming,  or  rather 
beamiog,  in  the  shade  of  thick  and  rather  bnshy 
eyebrows.  There  was  no  great  polish  perceptible 
in  Father  Doran's  manner,  but  there  was  that  about 
him  which  commanded  respect  and  anfliciently  in- 
dicated the  clergyman  and  the  man  of  education. 
Still,  from  his  constant  association  with  the  farming 
classes,  he  had  either  acquired  or  assumed  a  certain 
blunt,  direct  way  of  speaking,  which,  together  with 
a  dash  of  drollery,  made  him  quite  a  favorite  with 
the  people  who  respected  and  adt  .ired  his  virtues 
as  a  priest  and  as  a  man.  He  bad  already  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Nora  and  her  children,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Patsey,  and,  after  a  few  words  of  cordial 
welcome  to  Con  and  Paul,  who  were  introduced  by 
Felix,  he  bold  out  bis  hand  to  the  boy,  who  took 
good  care  to  obtain  a  prominent  position. 

" How  do  you  do,  my  little  man?  I'm  glad  to  sea 
you  in  Iowa.    What's  your  name  V* 


340  coi*  o'keoan  ;  or, 

«'  Folks  call  me  Patsey,  but  my  name  is  Patrick— 
Patrick  Bergen." 

"  Well !  Patrick,  you  have  a  good  name,  at  all 
events— the  best  name  an  Irishman  or  an  Irish  boy 
cotdd  have.     I  hope  you  will  be  a  credit  to  your 

name."  ^ 

Patsey  hastened  to  set  the  priest  right.     "  Bat  1 

a'nt  an  Irish  boy— I  was  born  in  B " 

'« Oh  1  ho  1"  said  the  priest,  who  began  to  smell  a 
rat,  as  Judy  afterwards  said ;  "  so  you're  not  Irish, 
•h?  Then  they  had  no  business  to  call  you  Patrick, 
and  I  wouldn't  put  up  with  it  if  I  were  you." 

«« I  don't  mean  to,"  said  Patsey,  eagerly,  com- 
pletely deceived  by  the  ironical  gravity  of  the  good 
priest;  "when  I  come  to  be  a  man  I'll  have  folks 
call  me  a  prettier  name." 

"  Oh !  you  will,  eh  ?— and  what  name  will  you 

take,  my  little  fellow  ?"  .      i      -a 

«'  Well  I  I  ha'nt  right  made  up  my  mind,"  said 

Patsey,   with   quite  a  meditative   aii  ;    "  I   ga«B8 

Washington's  about  the  best " 

"Or   Parker,"    suggested    the    priest,    gravely { 
«« wouldn't  that  go  well— Parker  Bergen,  eh  ?" 

"First-rate!"  cried  the  boy,  clapping  his  hands 
in  high  glee,  but  his  pleasurable  excitement  was 
only  of  short  duration,  for  his  father,  unable  to  bear 
ft  any  longer,  suddenly  caught  him  by  the  back  of 
the  neck,  and,  giving  him  a  good  hearty  shake,  told 
him  to  go  about  his  business,  or  he'd  give  him 
Parker  Bergen  on  a  place  where  he  wouldn't  like  iu 


OB, 

my  name  is  Patriek— 

a  good  uame,  at  all 

hntan  or  an  Irish  boy 

be  a  credit  to  your 

priest  right.     "  Bat  I 

in  B » 

I  who  began  to  emell  a 

"  80  you're  not  Irish, 
iBS  to  call  you  Patrick, 
,  if  I  were  you." 
Patsey,  eagerly,  com- 
;al  gravity  of  the  good 
(  a  man  I'll  have  folks 

[  what  name  will  you 

,de  up  my  mind,"  said 
itative   aii  ;    "  I  gnesa 

the  priest,  gravely; 
rker  Bergen,  eh  ?" 
»oy,  dapping  his  hands 
lurable  excitement  was 
is  father,  unable  to  bear 
[ht  him  by  the  back  of 
good  hearty  shake,  told 
Qess,  or  he'd  give  him 
here  he  wouldn't  like  iu 


EMIORAKr  UfR  !N  THE  NBW  WORLD. 


Zit 


patsey  slunk  away  confounded  and  ashamed,  while 
Lis  father  hastened  to  apologize  to  the  priest. 

"I  hope  your  reverence  will  excuse  him,"  said  he, 
"  on  account  of  the  bad  way  we  had  heretofore  of 
hringin'  him  up.  He  was  most  of  his  time  on  the 
streets,  sir,  for  when  I  was  away  at  my  work  his 
poor  mother  couldn't  be  runnin'  after  him,  an'  I 
needn't  tell  you  what  sort  of  company  he  fell  in 

with  on  the  streets  of  B .     Still,  I  hope  in  Qod  . 

he's  not  so  far  gone  but  what  he  can  b«  reclaimed, 
when  he's  away  from  bis  former  companions  an'  in 
a  place  where  he  can  always  have  something  to 
do." 

"Never  fear,  Paul,  never  fear!"  said  Father 
Doran,  cheerfully,  "  he's  the  making  of  a  fine  manly 
fellow,  and  you'll  not  be  long  here  till  you  see  a 
great  change  in  him.  For  my  part,  I  am  not  the 
least  surprised  to  hear  him  talk  so.  It  was  just  as 
natural  for  him  to  imbibe  such  notions  from  the  ele- 
ments by  which  he  was  surrounded  as  it  is  for  a  fish 
to  learn  to  swim.  Your  other  children  se^m  quiet 
and  docile." 

"  Indeed  they  are,  your  reverence,"  put  in  Nora, 
eagerly ;  "  though  I  say  it,  they're  good  children— 
that's  Janie  and  Jim  here,  an'  the  poor  fellow  we 
lost,  too,  he  was  a  different  boy  from  Patsey,  alto- 
gether, an'  wasn't  half  so  hard  to  manage.  The  only 
thing  we  had  again  him  was  that  he  was  too  fond 
of  the  streets,  an'  ooh !  ooh  I  sure  it  was  that  that 
brought  him  to  his  end-— farcer  gar,  it  was  I" 


t4l 


CON  o'riegan  ;  or, 


After  administering  a  few  kind  words  of  consola- 
tion to  poor  Nora,  Father  Doran  turned  to  onf 
friend  Con  and  inquired  whether  he  was  married  ^r 
Bingle,  what  family  he  had,  and  other  such  questions, 
to  all  of  which  Con  gave  short,  direct  answers,  dis- 
playing so  much  good  sense  and  good  manners  that 
the  priest  began  to  regard  him  with  anasnal  interest. 
Pressing  his  inquiries  a  little  farther,  he  gradually 
drew  oat  the  history  of  Con's  good  fortune,  and 
heard  his  account  of  Winny,  "  the  best  of  sisters," 
as  the  brother  fondly  called  her.  All  this  was  highly 
satisfactory,  and  served  to  raise  the  young  man  still 
higher  in  the  estimation  of  his  new  pastor. 

"Well,  Con,"  said  he,  rising  from  his  seat,  "  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  you  here !  it  is  just  such  men  as  you 
•we  want  to  found  new  colonies  in  these  magnificent 
regions :  men  who  will  hand  down  to  their  children 
the  Christian  virtues  and  the  Christian  faith  pure 
and  unsullied  as  they  came  to  them  from  their  pious 
ancestors.  Mrs.  Bergen,  I  should  like  to  retire  for 
a  while  to  read  my  office,  if  you  will  secure  me  from 
invasion." 

"  But,  dear  bless  me,  Father  Doran,  sure  yon  must 
first  get  something  to  eat.  I  have  a  nice  chicken 
cooking  there  in  the  oven,  and  it'll  be  dore  in  less 
than  no  time.  After  that  you  can  be  as  quiet  as 
you  like— not  a  soul  I'll  let  in  on  yon  if  it  was  the 
governor  himself." 

»' Excuse  me, my  worthy  hostess,'  said  the  priest, 
With  a  emile, «'  I  shall  bo  through  before  your  chicken 


;  OR, 

ind  words  of  oonsola- 
Doran  turned   to  oar 
her  he  was  married  or 
\  other  such  questions, 
•t,  direct  answers,  dis- 
nd  good  manners  that 
I  with  anasnal  interest. 
B  farther,  he  gradually 
n's  good  fortune,  and 
,  "  the  best  of  sisters," 
sr.     All  this  was  highly 
ise  the  young  man  still 
IS  new  pastor, 
g  from  his  seat,  "  I  am 
is  just  such  men  as  you 
es  in  these  magnificent 
down  to  their  children 
le  Christian  faith  pure 
)  them  from  their  pious 
hould  like  to  retire  for 
'ou  will  secure  me  from 

sr  Doran,  sure  you  must 
I  have  a  nice  chicken 
nd  it'll  be  dore  in  less 
^ou  can  be  as  quiet  as 
in  on  you  if  it  was  the 

liostess,-'  said  the  priest, 
ugh  before  your  chicken 


IJOGRANT  l.irS  IN  THE  MKW  WORLD. 


343 


is  cooked.  What  I  have  to  read  now  will  not  keep 
me  long,  and  then  I  can  pay  my  respects  to  your 
bill  of  fare." 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  when  it  drew  near 
sun  down,  one  and  another  began  to  drop  in  to  go 
to  confession.  The  m^n  were  all  in  their  Avorking 
clothes,  having  merely  taken  time  to  wash  hands 
and  face  and  make  tbeir  hair  somewhat  smooth. 
Amongst  the  twelve  '  fifteen  who  arrived  in  suc- 
cession there  were  some  of  all  ages  and  of  both 
sexes,  all  more  or  less  collected  in  their  demeanor. 
Last  of  all  came  in  Thac'y  Landrigan,  and  Con  could 
not  help  saying  to  him  in  a  tone  of  surprise :  "  Why 
I  thought  you  were  to  be  some  miles  away  at  work 

to-day  !" 
"  Well !  and  sure  so  I  was  I— what  of  that  ?' 
«'  Why,  nothing,  only  I  didn't  expect  to  see  yon 
here  this  evening— that's  all  I" 

"  Oh !  I  Bee,"  said  Thady,  forgetting  for  the  mo- 
ment his  gravity  and  recollection;  "I  see  what 
you're  up  to.  I  suppose  you  thought  me  such  a 
wild,  harum-scarum  fellow,  that  I  wouldn't  think  of 
kneeling  under  a  priest.  But  I'm  not  quite  so  bad 
as  you  seem  to  take  mo  for.  God  forgive  me,  I 
was  a  scapegrace  long  enough,  and  it's  little  comfort 
the  poor  mother  there  had  with  me,»'  pointing  as  he 
spoke  to  a  comfortably-clad  old  woman  whose  sil- 
very hairs  gave  dignity  to  her  mien  as  they  showed 
from  under  a  dose-bordered  cap  and  a  ne»t  black 
ulk  bonnet.    The  look  of  affectionate  pride  which 


344 


CON    o'rBGAM  ;    OR, 


Booompanied  these  words  were  not  lost  on  Con,  M 
Thady  proceeded :  "  Bat  that  was  when  I  was  loaf- 
ing about  in  the  cities,  watching  for  a  day's  work, 
and  keeping— not  the  best  company,  in  my  leisure 
hoars,  you  may  be  sme—then  I  couldn't  bear  the 
thoughts  01  going  to  my  duty,  and  many  a  battle 
my  mother  and  me  had  about  it,  but  now,  thank 
God !  it  comes  as  easy  to  me  as  if  I  was  only  saying 
my  prayers." 

The  room  door  ndw  opened,  and  one  penitent 
coming  out  another  went  in,  whereupon  Thady,  per- 
ceiving that  his  turn  was  drawing  near,  applied  him- 
self again  to  his  book  and  his  self-examination. 
However  much  Con  might  have  been  inclined  to  re- 
flect on  what  he  had  just  heard,  he  was  fain  to  ban- 
ish all  such  distractions  from  his  mind  for  that  time, 
as  he,  too,  was  preparing  for  confession.  Still,  he 
could  not  help  saying  to  himself  aa  he  turned  the 
leaves  of  his  prayer-book : 

"  If  it  was  oat  here  poor  Tom  Derragh  had  spent 
his  ten  years  what  a  di6Ferent  man  he'd  be  now  !— 
and  even  such  lads  as  Smith  or  Houlahan— would 
they  have  been  as  they  are  if  they  had  been  brought 
up  in  a  quiet  country-place,  among  their  own  peo- 
ple ?"  The  answer  was  a  heavy  sigh  from  the  depth 
of  his  own  heart. 

Next  morning.  Father  Doran's  little  chapel  wa« 
crowded  with  earnest  simple  worshippers,  and  as 
Con  O'Regan  looked  around  from  the  grey-haired 
l>riest  at  the  alUr  to  the  men,  women,  and  ohUdren, 


OR, 

B  not  lost  on  Con,  M 
was  when  I  was  loaf* 
ng  for  a  day's  work, 
ainpany,  in  my  le'uure 
n  I  couldn't  bear  the 
ty,  and  many  a  battle 
at  it,  but  now,  thank 
as  if  I  was  only  saying 

led,  and  one  penitent 
nrhereupon  Thady,  per- 
ving  near,  applied  bim- 
bis  self-examination. 
iVfl  been  inclined  to  re- 
rd,  he  was  fain  to  ban- 
bis  mind  for  that  time, 
r  confession.  Still,  he 
iself  as  he  turned  the 

om  Derragh  had  spent 
1  man  he'd  be  now  ! — 
1  or  Houlahan — would 
'  they  had  been  brought 
among  their  own  peo- 
ivy  sigh  from  the  depth 

•ran's  little  chapel  was 
lie  worshippers,  and  as 
1  from  the  grey-haired 
1,  women,  and  obildreo, 


KUIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THK  NKW  WOBI.D. 


849 


who  composed  the  congregation,  some  telling  their 
beads  devoutly,  and  others  poring  intently  over  the 
pages  of  their  well  worn  prayer-books,  he  could  al- 
most fancy  himself  at  home  in  his  own  parish,  with 
Father  Halligan  saying  Mass.    There  was  nothing 
strange  in  the  scene,  but  ever\  thing  home-like  and 
familiar.     Tlie  very  bareness  of  the  walls  and  th« 
poverty  of  the  place  made  it  more  like  his  own 
chapel  of  Ballymullen,  and  the  very  light  as  it  pen* 
etrated  through  the  high,  narrow  windows  on  either 
side,  had   a  softened   mellow  hue   that  reminded 
him  of  the  hazy  sunshine  of  his  own  dear  land. 
Near  him  knelt  Paul  and   Nora  Bergen,  and  he 
could  see  that  they,  too,  were  carried  back  into  the 
tranquil  past,  for  Paul's  bluff  face  had  a  serious  yet 
softened  look  far  different  from  its  wonted  charac- 
ter, and  Nora's  mild  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  as 
they  rested  on  the  colored  engravicg,  one  side  of 
the  altar,  representing  St.  Patrick  on  the  hill  of 
Howth  banishing  the  snakes  and  toads  which  crawl 
in  ugly  motion  around  his  feet.* 

Before  Father  Doran  set  out  that  afternoon  to 
return  to  his  distant  dwelling,  he  presided  at  the 
hospitable  board  of  Felix  Bergen,  Judy  having  got 

♦  This  legend  U  of  rather  an  apocryphftl  charactor,  yet  oona- 
ing  down  to  us  with  the  stamp  of  antiquity,  U  i.i  Hula  wo  .der 
that  the  people — the  simple  and  the  unlearned— give  it  im< 
p<ic!l  credence.  There  is  erery  reason  to  auppoie  that  the 
absence  of  Tenomoos  reptiles  In  Ireland  is  owing  to  some  p<x 
c«liar  quality  in  the  toil. 


t4« 


CON  o'ncoAN  ;  on, 


r 


up  »  twelve  o'clock  dinner  for  the  priest.  A  few  of 
the  oldest  and  most  respectable  of  the  neighV)or8 
were  kept  for  dinner,  and  Felix  would  have  Invited 
double  the  nunaber  had  there  been  any  possibility  of 
Beating  bo  large  a  company  with  even  tolerable  com- 
fort to  themselves. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over  Father  Doran  said 
grace,  and  then  stood  up  from  the  table,  observing 
that  there  were  some  of  his  parishioners  to  meet  him 
at  five  o'clock,  on  business,  so  that  ho  was  obliged  to 
leave  sooner  than  he  would  wish.  No  one  could 
think  of  staying  a  moment  at  the  table  after  the 
priest  left,  so,  notwithstanding  divers  winks  and 
nods  from  Felix,  the  company  all  pushed  back  their 
chairs  and  manifested  an  intention  to  "  be  on  the 

move." 

As  Father  Doran  passed  out  through  the  kitchen, 
accompanied  by  Felix,  he  encountered  Patsey,  who 
was  sitting  on  the  floor  amusing  the  baby,  Janie 
being  occupied  waiting  on  the  guests.  Great  as  the 
priest's  hurry  was  he  could  not  pass  without  putting 
a  few  questions  to  the  boy,  in  whom  he  felt  some- 
what interested. 

"Do  you  know  your  catechism,  Patrick?" 

«'  My  catechism !"  repeated  Patsey,  looking  up  in 
Bur prise ;  then,  as  he  slowly  took  in  the  meaning  of 
the  question,  he  replied  with  much  coolness  : 

"  Yes,  I  guess  I  know  some  of  it.  Mother  mads 
me  learn  it  to  home  Sunday  evenings." 

"And  did  you  not  learn  it  in  Church,  or  in  school f*' 


OR, 

the  priest.    A  few  of 
»ble  of  the  neighV)or8 
X  would  have  Invited 
been  any  possiVtility  of 
th  even  tolerable  com- 
er Father  Doran  said 
n  the  table,  observing 
rishioners  to  meet  him 
that  ho  was  obliged  to 
wish.     No  one  could 
at  the  table  after  the 
ng   divers   winks    and 
r  all  pushed  back  their 
tention  to  "  be  on  the 

ut  through  the  kitchen, 
countered  Patsey,  who 
lusing  the  baby,  Janie 
e  guests.  Great  as  the 
ot  pass  without  putting 
in  whom  he  felt  some- 

ihism,  Patrick  ?" 

d  Palsey,  looking  up  in 

took  in  the  meaning  of 

I  much  coolness : 

ue  of  it.     Mother  mad* 

evenings." 

in  Churob,  or  in  school  I*' 


KMIQRANT  I.IFK  IN  THE  SEW  WORLD. 


841 


«•  Oh  no  1"  and  Patsey  laughed  lightly ;  "  there 
wan't  any  catechism  taught  in  sohool,  and  I  hardly 
ever  went  to  Church  to  catechism." 

"  And  why  not?"  said  the  priest,  with  a  winning 
smile,  and  speaking  in  the  soilest  tone  he  oould 
command. 

The  child  looked  up  for  a  moment  as  if  to  examine 
the  countenance  of  his  interrogator,  then,  probably 
encouraged  by  what  he  saw  there,  he  hastily  replied  : 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  'cause  I  know 
you'll  not  tell  father  or  mother.  You  see  Jake 
Hampton  and  al'.  the  boys  used  to  wait  for  me 
Sunday  afternoons  at  the  corner  jest  below  our 
house— you  know  that  corner,  don't  you?— well, 
they'd  have  always  something  on  hands  just  then, 
and  they  couldn't  git  along  no  how  without  me, 
and  when  I'd  tell  them  that  I  was  a-going  to  cate- 
chism they'd  all  laugh  so  that  I  used  to  feel  real 
bad,  and  so  they'd  take  me  along  wherever  they 
wanted  to  go,  and  I'd  forget  all  about  the  catechism 
till  it  was  jest  time  to  go  home,  and  then  I'd  run 
ever  so  fast  to  git  home  in  time,  and  mother  never 
knew  but  what  I  was  at  Church.  Poor  Jake 
Hampton  I"  added  Patsey,  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh, 
"  I  wonder  how  he  gits  along  now  when  he  ha'nt 
me  to  go  with  him  ?  He's  a  brick,  is  Jake  Hamp> 
ton,  every  inch  of  him  I" 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  to  sohool,  Patsey  ?"  de- 
manded the  priest,  after  regarding  the  boy  with  a 
pitying  look  for  a  few  seconds. 


IMS 


OON  o'rroan  ;  OR, 


•'To  Bohool!"  cried  Patsey,  with  iodigaant  em- 
phasis; "  I  guess  not !  There  a'nt  any  schools  out 
here  fit  to  go  to.     Jake  Hampton  said  so." 

"  Oh  !  never  mind  what  Jake  Hampton  said,"  re- 
joined the  priest,  with  his  cool,  satirical  smile ;  "  I'll 
have  you  a  good  school,  soon,  depend  upon  it,  where 
'the  catechism  shall  be  taught,  and  where  you  will 
learn  to  be  a  good  boy,  and  grow  up  a  good  man. 
Good-bye,  Patsey,  my  boy  !  I  hope  to  hear  a  good 
account  of  you  when  I  come  again." 

Fdix  had  gone  out  at  the  commencement  of  this 
little  dialogue,  and  now  appeared  at  the  fiont  door 
with  the  priest's  horse.  Independent  landowner 
as  Felix  Bergen  was,  he  considered  it  a  high  honor 
to  wait  upon  Father  Doran,  so  high,  indeed,  that  he 
oould  never  be  prevailed  upon  to  lei  Dinny  or  any 
one  else  do  for  him  anything  that  he  could  do. 

"  And  why  wouldn't  I  ?"  he  used  to  say ;  "  isn't  it 
jroud  and  happy  I  am  to  have  a  place  for  his  reve- 
rence to  stop  in,  and  good  stabling  for  his  horse  T 
Isn't  it  a  great  honor  entirely  for  a  poor'  ignorant 
man  like  me  to  have  the  Lord's  anointed  under  my 
roof?"  So,  on  this  principle,  both  Felix  and  Judy 
thought  they  never  could  do  half  enough  for  his 
reverence,  in  return  for  the  high  and  distinctive  honor 
his  presence  conferred  upon  them. 

Most  of  the  guests  left  soon  after  the  priest,  as 
many  of  them  had  a  long  way  to  go,  but  Mrs.  Lan- 
drigan  and  her  son  were  prevailed  upon  to  stay  foi 
the  evening,  as  also  Pat  Mollins.    The  latter  attaohed 


;  OR, 

r,  with  indignant  em* 
e  a'nt  any  gchools  ont 
pton  said  so." 
ike  Hampton  said,"  re- 
al, satirical  smile;  "I'll 
,  depend  upon  it,  where 
It,  and  where  you  will 

grow  up  a  good  man. 
I  hope  to  hear  a  good 
again." 

commencement  of  this 
ared  at  the  fiont  door 
dependent  land-owner 
jidered  it  a  high  honor 
BO  high,  indeed,  that  he 
on  to  let  Dinny  or  any 

that  he  could  do. 
16  used  to  say ;  "  isn't  it 
ive  a  place  for  his  reve- 
Btabling  for  his  horse? 
■ely  for  a  poor'  ignorant 
d's  anointed  under  my 
e,  both  Felix  and  Judy 
do  half  enough  fur  his 
,gh  and  distinctive  honor 
them. 

oon  after  the  priest,  as 
'ay  to  go,  but  Mrs.  Lan- 
ivailed  upon  to  stay  foi 
ins.   The  latter  Attaohed 


BMIOnAS'T  I.irR  IN  THR  SKW  W»1Rt.D. 


349 


himself  to  Con,  who  was  much  amused  by  his  quaint 
drollery.  His  couuin  Thady  was  usually  the  butt  of 
Lis  harmless  raillery,  but  on  this  occasion  he  "  kept 
his  tongue  off  him,"  as  he  said  to  Con,  "  on  account 
of  his  being  at  communion  in  the  morning.  I  never 
spare  him  at  other  limes,"  obaerved  Pat,  "  for,  to  tell 
the  truth,  he's  such  a  good-hearted  slob  of  a  fellow 
that  he  never  takes  it  ill,  no  matter  what  I  say  to  him, 
but,  of  coorse,  I  can't  be  carrying  on  to-day  with  him 
as  I  would  at  another  time." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  your  hand,  Thudy  ?" 
said  Mrs.  Felix  Bergen;  "I  see  you  have  it  tied  up 
there." 

"  Oh  !  it's  only  a  scratch,"  said  Thady,  carelojsly, 
"  nothing  worth  speaking  of." 

"Why,  now,  listen  to  what  he  says!"  cried  his 
mother,  who  was  smoking  her  pipe  in  Felix's  his;h- 
backed  chair  in  the  chimney  corner;  "indeed,  JAra. 
Bergen  dear,  it's  bad  enough  it  is  with  him.  He  has 
a  very  sore  hand  entirely." 
«  And  how  did  ho  get  it,  at  all  ?" 
"  Why,  you  see,  he  was  down  with  a  lot  of  the 
boys  at  widow  Moran's,  puttin'  up  a  barn  for  the 
crature,  as  she  has  no  man-body  to  help  her,  au'  it 
was  iu  the  dusk  of  the  evenin'  they  were  doin'  it, 
after  their  work  was  over  at  home ;  so  poor  Thady 
ther«  was  cutliu'  at  a  wedge  with  a  big  knife,  and 
what  would  you  have  of  it,  ma'am,  but  the  knife 
slipped  a  one  side,  an'  gave  him  a  terrible  cut.  I'm 
afeard  it'll  be  a  haod  to  him  this  many  a  day." 


850 


CON  o'rkgan  ;  OR, 


•'Pooh,  pooh,  mother,  you're  always  so  easy 
frightened,"  said  Thady,  with  a  look  of  affectionate 
reproach;  "please  God,  I'll  be  able  to  give  Paul 
Bergen  a  hand  at  the  putting  up  of  his  house  a 
Thursday  next.  There's  nothing  the  matter  with 
my  hand  but  what  a  couple  of  days  will  cure.", 

"Not  a  hand  or  hand  you'll  give  me,  Thady, 
all  day  a  Thursday  T'  put  in  Paul ;  "  you  must  just 
keep  quiet  till  that  hand  gets  well— such  things  are 
not  to  be  played  with,  I  can  tell  you !" 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,"  said  Thady,  "  if  Pm  not  able 
to  help  you  on  Thursday,  which,  please  God,  I  will, 
you'll  have  to  put  off  the  job  till  tiie  week  after,  for 
I  promised  to  give  you  a  hand,  and  I  will,  too,  if 
I'm  a  living  man." 

"  Well !  well !  Thady,  anything  at  all  to  please 
yon,"  said  Felix,  jocosely;  "I  know  of  old  that 
you'd  have  your  own  way,  no  matter  what  oomes 
or  goes.  But,  tell  me  this,  Pat  Mullins— did  you 
ever  hear  from  that  foolish  brother-in-law  of  yours 
since  he  went  away  ?  I  always  forgot  to  ask  you." 
"Hear  from  him!"  cried  Pat,  with  a  sudden 
change  of  manner ;  "  is  it  him  to  write  a  scrowl  to 
any  one,  the  graceless  vagabond !— oh,  no!  thero 
isn't  that  much  good  in  him.  He  went  back  to 
Philadelphy,  you  know,  against  the  advice  of  his  fa- 
ther and  mother,  though  I  seen  them  myself  as  good 
as  goin'  down  on  their  knees  to  him  not  to  go,  but 
the  divil  had  too  fast  a  grip  of  him  to  let  him  be 
said  0/  led  by  them  that  was  for  his  good,  and,  if 


KMIORANT  MFB  IN  THE  N«W  WORLD, 


851 


[  ;  OR, 

you're  always  so  easy 
Lh  a  look  of  affectionate 
il  be  able  to  give  Paul 
ling  up  of  his  house  a 
othing  the  matter  with 

of  days  will  cure.". 

you'll  give  me,  Thady, 
1  Paul ;  "  you  must  just 
its  well — such  things  are 
1  tell  you !" 

Thady,  "  if  I'm  not  able 
irhich,  please  God,  I  will, 
b  till  the  week  after,  for 

hand,  and  I  will,  too,  if 

nyth'.Bg  at  all  to  please 
;  "I  know  of  old  that 
,  no  matter  what  comes 
s,  Pat  MuHins — did  you 
I  brother-in-law  of  yours 
ways  forgot  to  ask  you." 
ed  Pat,  with  a  sudden 
him  to  write  a  scrowl  to 
gabond  ! — oh,  no !  there 
him.  He  went  back  to 
ainst  the  advice  of  his  fii- 
seen  them  myself  as  good 
ees  to  him  not  to  go,  but 
rip  of  him  to  let  him  be 
was  for  hit  good,  and,  if 


you  please,  it's  what  he  mtde  game  of  the  old  con 
pie,  and  tould  them  not  to  fret  about  him,  for  that 
if  he  wasn't  back  in  three  weeks  he'd  write. — You 
know  the  cant  word  people  used  to  have  at  home. — 
Poor  Phelim  and  N«rry !  they  never  raised  their 
heads  since,  nor  won't,  till  they  go  to  their  graves, 
let  that  be  long  or  short.  Ah !  God  isn't  in  heaven, 
or  that  fellow  will  be  made  an  example  of  before 
ever  he  leaves  this  world." 

"  God  send  he  mayn't !"  said  Felix,  with  deep  feel- 
ing; "  I  wouldn't  be  in  his  place  for  a  mint  o'  money." 

"Nor  I  neither,"  observed  Thady;  "  ihe  wildest 
day  ever  I  was  I  could  never  go  the  length  of  that, 
though,  God  knows,  I  was  bad  enough.  However, 
it  was  the  best  of  Lanty's  play  to  clear  off  from  hero 
if  he  meant  to  carry  on  in  that  way,  for  no  decent 
boy  round  here  would  have  anything  to  say  to  him 
while  he  made  so  little  of  his  parents.  None  of  us 
cared  much  about  him  at  the  best,  for  we  used  to 
think  there  was  something  very  light  in  him.  He 
could  never  content  himself  here,  either,  but  was  al- 
ways jibing  at  everything  he  saw,  and  had  no  respect 
for  any  one !" 

Patsey  was  sitting  m  the  corner  beyond  Mrs. 
Landrigan  listening  to  this  conversation,  with  eyes 
and  month  wide  open.  Turning  eagerly  from  one 
to  the  other  of  l4ie  speakers,  he  swallowed  every 
word,  and  when  Thady  had  concluded  this  last 
speech,  ho  drew  a  long  breath,  and  looking  round 
met  his  mother's  eyes  fixed  full  upon  him.    Blush- 


tst 


COM   O'KBOAW  ;   OR, 


T 


ing  like  scarlet,  the  little  fellow  Blank  farther  inte 
bis  corner,  and  Nora  nudged  her  husband,  who  sat 
near  her,  and  made  a  sign  for  him  to  look  at  Patsej, 
A  glance  of  joyful  meaning  revealed  to  each  the 
hopes  which  both  began  already  to  entertain.  If 
all  this  did  not  make  an  impression  on  Patscy'i 
mind,  then  nothing  ever  could. 


a 

D 

P 

ti 

c 

tl 
'1 

it 
fi 

P 

Q 

C( 

ii: 
w 
li) 
tl 
t( 
r( 
tl 
in 


;  OR, 

tow  slunk  farther  int« 
her  hnsband,  who  sat 

him  to  look  at  Patse  j. 
revealed  to  each  the 

eady  to  entertain.     If 

mpression  on  Patsey'i 

d. 


■moiUNT  LIFE  FN  THK  NKW  WJBLD. 


853 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Thbbb  years  had  passed  away  since  Con  O'Regan 
and  his  friends  heard  their  first  Mass  in  Iowa.  Many 
more  homesteads  dotted  the  smiling  face  of  the 
prairie,  and  amongst  them  were  two  owned  respec- 
tively by  Paul  Lergen  and  Con  O'Regan.  In  the 
shade  of  the  clump  of  maples  stood  the  small  but 
comfortable  cottage  put  up  for  Con  in  the  course  of 
the  first  year  by  the  ready  and  willing  hands  of 
Thady  Landrigan  and  his  "  neighbor  boys."  Round 
it  spread  the  rich  and  well-tilled  fields,  already  care- 
fully inclosed,  where  a  succession  of  crops  was  in 
progress  the  whole  year  round.  It  was  the  begin- 
ning of  May,  and  in  that  mild  climate,  the  oats,  and 
corn,  and  wheat  were  already  above  ground,  while 
ill  one  portion  of  a  large  field,  the  early  potatoes 
were  raising  their  dark-green  tops,  in  promise  of  a 
luxuriant  harvest.  In  a  pen  at  a  short  distance  from 
the  house  were  some  three  or  four  first-rate  hogs  fat- 
tening to  kill,  while  several  others  of  inferior  size 
roamed  at  will,  regaling  themselves  on  the  mud  of 
llie  farmyard.  A  htodsome  young  horse  was  frisk- 
ing and  gambolling  in  a  pasture  close  by,  in  company 


j5^  cos  o'bkgan  ;  or, 

with  three  or  four  good  milch  cows.    BcW  the 
house  was  a  garden  of  moderate  8,ze,  planted  ha  f 
^ZZy  pofatoes.  and  in  the  farther  corner  partly 
Udden  at  that  noontide  hour  by  the  deep  shade  ol 
;«  neighboring  trees,  was  Con  l;i-elf  hard  at  wor. 
planting  cabbages,  or,  as  he  would  say  him    If,    P  ^ 
Lg  down  plants."    And  within  doors,  all  was  Ide 
and  animation.    A  fair  young  matron,  small,  and 
neat  and  tidy,  was  moving  lightly  about  prepares 
the  mid-duy  meal,  whose  savory  odor  scented  all  he 
air  within  and  around  the  house.      Two    prelt, 
children  were  seated  on  low  stools  near  the  firo  en 
joying  with  much  apparent  relish  the  soup  which 
iheir  mother  had  just  dealt  out  to  them.     Phes 
three  were  "  Biddy  and  the  children,"  so  often  talked 
of,  and  BO  long  expected.    But  where  was  Winny, 
our  earliest  acquaintance  of  all  the  OKegans?- 
.vhere  but  in  her  brother's  corner,  with  a  piece  of 
needlework  in  her  hand,  and  a  very  handsome  grey 
pussy  purring  and  dozing  on  her  knee.    And  Win- 
ny's  face  was  no  longer  pale,  nor  her  eyes  no  longer 
Bad  and  downcast,  as  she  raised  them  to  her  sister- 
in-law's  face  with  a  happy  smile. 

"Well,  now,  Biddy  1"  said  she,  laying  down  her 
work  for  the  moment  on  pussy's  back,  "well,  now, 
Biddy,  I'd  give  a  trifle  of  my  own  to  know  who  that 
Bchoolmaster  is  that  Father  Doran's  getting  <  nt. 
His  reverence  is  keeping  it  mighty  close,  though  he 
gives  us  a  hint  now  and  then  that  we'U  bo  glad  to 
Bee  him  when  he  comes." 


r  ;  OR, 

lilcb  cows.  Beliiud  tho 
lerate  size,  planted  half 
the  farther  corner,  partly 
5ur  by  the  deep  shade  of 
3on  himself  hard  at  work 
would  say  himself,  "  pot- 
within  doors,  all  was  life 
)ung  matron,  small,  and 
r  lightly  about  preparing 
ivory  odor  scented  all  the 
be  house.  Two  pretty 
)W  stools  near  the  firo  en- 
nt  relish  the  soup  which 
jalt  out  to  them.  These 
3  children,"  so  often  talked 
But  where  w^as  Winny, 

of  all  the  O'llegans?- 
i'b  corner,  with  a  piece  of 
and  a  very  handsome  grey 
T  on  her  knee.  And  Win- 
ale,  nor  her  eyes  no  longer 
I  raised  them  to  her  eister- 
r  smile, 
said  she,  laying  down  her 

pussy's  back,  "  well,  now, 
•  my  own  to  know  who  that 
ither  Doran'a  getting  out. 

it  mighty  close,  though  he 

then  that  we'U  bo  glad  to 


KMrOP.AXT  UFK  IN  THE  .VEW  WORLD. 


855 


"Oh I  k'8  all  plain  enough  to  me,"  replied  Biddy, 
who  rather  piqued  herself  on  her  clear-sightodness ; 
'*  he's  getting  him  out  from  somewhere  near  our  own 
place  at  home.  I'd  wager  a  trifle,  Winny  dear,  th.at 
It's  ould  Dominick  Shannon  that  was  teachin'  school 
for  Father  Staunton,  when  Con  lefl  home,  np  at  Kil- 
lorgan.  He  was  doing  nothing  when  I  came  out 
only  goin'  from  one  f  trmer'a  house  to  another  teach- 
in'  the  children  afler  hours.  As  sure  as  anythin<v 
It's  him  that  Father  Doran  is  gettin'  out,  for  I  was 
talkin'  to  liim  myself  about  him !" 

"  Well !  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  Winny,  with 
a  thoughtful  air,  "but  I  wish  he  was  come  at  any 
rate,  for  the  children  round  here  are  badly  in  want 
of  him.  Not  but  what  Oormac  Dillon  does  his  host 
with  them,  but  that"  isn't  much,  poor  man  I  for  he 
hasn't  the  learning  himself.  Still  ho  teaches  them  to 
read  and  write." 

"And  teaches  them  their  catechism,  too,"  observ- 
ed  Biddy,  "and  their  prayers,  and  sure  that  itself  is 
a  great  thing.  Run  out,  Micky,"  to  her  eldest  child, 
"and  call  your  father— he  must  be  in  need  of  his  din- 
ner  by  this  time !" 

"  Did  you  hear  the  news  ?'  said  Con,  as  he  washed 
his  hands  in  preparation  for  dinner. 

"  No  !'  said  one,  and  "  no  !"  said  the  other ;  "  what 
•n  the  world  is  it?" 

"  Why,  the  new  schoolmaster  is  at  Dubuque. 
Father  Doran  sent  word  for  a  conple  of  as  to  go 
out  with  wagons  for  him  and  his  family.'* 


g,g  ■       COK  o'REr.AN  ;  OB, 

know  wboheis?'  a  «  „v,v  bow  wouU  yo" 

..  You  I"  cried  ber  busbaod,    wby,  uow 

know,  Biddy  ^^^^J^^J'  -^  Biddy,  wilb  a  Baga- 

..  Ob!  never  mmd  ibat,    B^xa  d      y^ 
ciou«  nod  of  ber  little  bead      I  know  an 

,„o«gb.    A.k  W-/J^  J^^^^^^  ,,,ed  and  said,  "  I 
Con  looked  at  bis  "s^e'^  '"  g^^^  ^^^^^^  it's 

,ave  only  ber  <>-j;;^J:/:eacb  tbe  KiUorgau 
Dominick  Sbannou  tbat  usea  lo 

Bobool."  1.  uonriilv      "Youmigbt  joBt 

Tbis  made  C-^^-|^X^Lelf  out  ber'e."  -aid 

as  well  expect  to  bee  Slie>eueg  u 

l,e.  "  as  old  Dc^minick  Sh'«Hion  ^^  ^^^^ , 

'..Well!  well!"  persisted  Biddy,    tim 

You'll  see  wbetber  you  or  I'm  r.gbt.    But  are  y 

going  to  Dubuque  Con  r  ^^^^^ 

ii  I  believe  not,  iben,  for  l:'ani  oeyg*" 
1  Deu«v  .  enougb,  *  elix 

f  *T;m  wTpula  .«t  to  Uvo  to  .^o„ 
^       f  «f  them  plants  I'm  putting  down.     Witu 

,i„oe  w.  fir.t  came  out  here  ^  ^^,_^ 


KMIflRAMT  LIFE  IN  THR  NEW  WOrXD. 


851 


ncBt,  Con,"  said  bi> 
the  hour  in  the  en-^ 
g.  "well,  I  tWDlt  I 

why,  bow  wouU  yo» 

a  Biddy,  wilb  a  saga- 
"I  know  and  thai'* 

io  smiled  and  said,  »'! 

ar  it.    She  thinks  it'a 
to  teach  the  KiUorgau 

.ily.    "  You  inigbt  just 
!g  itself  out  here,"  said 

on."  ,     ,, , 

Biddy,  "  time  wiU  tell . 
tQ  right.    But  are  you 

aul  Bergen  and  Tommy 
d  that's  enough,  Felix 
led  not  to  have  to  go  on 
a  putting  down.  With 
Bhed  to-morrow.  Glory 
tered  times  with  us  all, 
,at  it's  only  three  years 

e!" 

^inoy,  in  her  soft,  calm 
,d  on  the  small  but  neat 
,  which  they  wore  assem- 


bled,  and  then  glanced  out  through  the  window  al 
the  fresh  and  tufled  foliage  of  t!ie  trees  through 
which  the  sunbeams  were  now  struggling;  "dear 
knows,  Con!  I  often  think  and  think  of  it  till  it 
seems  to  fade  away  into  a  dream.  Often  and  often 
when  I  take  the  children  out  for  a  run  on  the 
pasture,  and  sit  down  with  my  knitting  or  sewing 
under  one  of  the  trees  abroad,  I  f<iel  the  tears 
coming  into  my  eyes,  not  tears  of  sorrow,  you  may 
be  sure,  but  my  heart  is  so  full  of  peace,  and  I'm  so 
happy  and  so  contented.  Everything  looks  so  quiet 
all  around  and  the  church  and  the  priest's  new 
house  just  in  sight,  and  all  the  houses  as  far  as  I  can 
see  belongin'  to  friends  and  acquaintances — ah ! 
Con,"  she  added,  and  her  voice  faltered  with  emo- 
tion, "  ah.  Con !  if  our  poor  mother  was  only  alive 
now,  how  happy  we  could  make  her  here !  But 
sure,"  and  she  wiped  away  a  tear,  "  but  sure  I  hope 
she's  happier  even  than  we  are.  May  the  Lord 
receive  her  soul  in  glory  !" 

"Amen!"  responded  Con  and  Biddy,  and  for  a 
few  moments  nothing  more  was  said.  The  mention 
of  the  beloved  and  lamented  dead  raised  the 
thoughts  of  all  for  a  brief  space  from  the  narrow 
sphere  around  them.  Memory  was  busy  with  the 
brother  and  sister,  at  least,  as  they  fondly  thought 
of  the  mother  they  had  lost.  But  there  was  no 
bitterness  in  their  feelings.  Time  had  softened 
down  the  grief  of  eaob,  and  they  could  look  back 
with  mournful  pleasure  on  the  long-vanished  years 


158  cos  o'rkoan  ;  on, 

»hen  their  little  circle  revolved  round  that  precious 
centre,  a  loving  and  heloved-a  Christian  mother 

..  Well,  after  all,"  Baid  Biddy,  blessing  herself  and 
riBin-  from  the  table,  "  there's  no  use  frettia  about 
thenTthat's  gone.  It'll  be  our  own  turn  o"e  ^^eJ 
another,  and  God  grant  we  may  be  as  well  prepared 

'''•'DoXyou  think,  Con,"  said  Winny,  "  that  wo 
ougbt  to  have  a  letter  from  Mr.  Coulter  by  th.a 
time  ?-how  long  is  it  now  since  you  sent  him  that 

money  ?"  „  ^     u    ■«. 

<.  Why,  indeed,  it's  long  enough  for  me  to  have 
had  an  answer,  I'm  beginnin'  to  be  real  uneasy  for 
fear  my  letter  went  astray.  But  sure  it  could n, 
after  all,  for  Father  Doran  directed  it  for  me  with 
his  own  hand,  and,  of  course,  he  put  on  the  right  di- 

rection."  .  . 

"Oh'  there's  not  the  least  danger  of  it  going 
astray-l'm  sure  of  that,"  said  Winny,  "but  some- 
how  I'm  afraid  there's  some  reason  for  Mr.  Coulter 
not  writing.  There's  something  wrong,  you  may 
depend  upon  it,  or  he  wouldn't  be  this  loiig  without 
answering  your  letter.     I  hope  in  God  heB  not 

sickl"  ^     ,    i.       u  t. 

A  shade  of  anxiety  passed  over  Con's  face,  but 
he  affected  to  laugh  at  Winny's  fears.  "  Well,  now, 
Winny,  that's  you  all  over.  You're  always  frettin 
about  something.  Ill  engage  Mr.  Coulter's  as  well 
as  any  of  us  here.  What  would  ail  Lim,  I  want  to 
knowt    But  this  will  never  do  for  me!    Come  along 


( 
( 
1 

J 
g 
h 
d 
w 
ni 
fr 

K 
g( 

ra 
ko 
etf 
ho 
no 
loc 
onl 
me 
ing 


OB, 

a  roand  that  preciona 
a  Christian  mother, 
jr,  blessing  herself  and 
i  no  use  frettin'  about 
•  own  turn  one  day  or 
ly  be  as  well  prepared 

laid  Winny,  "  that  wo 
I  Mr.  Coulter  by  thi» 
noe  you  sent  bim  that 

aough  for  me  to  have 
a'  to  be  real  uneasy  for 
But  sure  it  couldn't, 
lirected  it  for  me  with 
he  put  on  the  right  di- 
nt danger  of  it  going 
lid  Winny,  "  but  some- 
reason  for  Mr.  Coulter 
thing  wrong,  you  may 
n't  be  this  long  without 
hope  in  God  he's  not 

ed  over  Con's  face,  but 
ly's  fears.  "  Well,  now, 
You're  always  frettin' 
ige  Mr.  Coulter's  as  well 
urould  ail  him,  I  want  to 
do  for  mo  I    Come  along 


KMIGRA.VT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD.  85^ 

"hade '. '  Thf  :??;  "^"•''-•-y-  «-  Pl^y  in  the 
Shade.      The  children  were  glad  of  the  Invitation, 
and   scampered  off  in  search  of  their  straw  hats 
o^tLnSs.'^^'^^°'*^P'*^*«^^-^'--ithhe; 

Although  Con  did  not  say  so  to  Winny,  he  began 
To.  h'  '^Vr''^'""^  had  really  happened  to  Mr. 
nfLr  J'  '.      ''  "'^'  ''  ^"  '^""•'^"^  '^'^^  evening, 
Offil      .  ?  '  '''''^  '"''  °^«'''  *°  SO  to  the  Pos 
Office,  which  was  about  two  miles  distant.    There 

tJT,  \m  ""  ^'■°'"  ^^^  ^'°^  benefactor,  which 
JUS  fied,  while  It  relieved,  all  his  fears.  The  old 
gentleman  had  received  Con's  letter,  and  had  duly 

dollar-  TT  V-"  "'''"  '^'  ^""^  of  a  hundred 
dollars  enclosed  m  it.     For  himself,  he  said    he 

would  have  acknowledged  its  receipt  sooner,  weie  it 

not  that  he  had  had  an  alarming  fit  of  aiopllxy 

And  tell  Wmny,-  he  added,  "that  Dr.  Richards 
got  his  dismissal  from  the  house.    I  managed  that 
point  anyhow,  sick  as  I  was,  for  I  never  ifked  the 
rascal  since  a  certain  affair  took  place.     You  do  not 
know  what  I  mean,  Con,  but  Winny  knows  well 
etfough.    I  know  you'll  be  all  frightened  to  hear  of 
how  near  going  I  was,  but,  for  the  present,  there's 
no  more  danger,  the  doctor  says.     I  suppose  I  may 
look  out  for  the  next  attack,  but,  meanwhile,  I  mast 
only  drive  dull   care  away.     'Eat,  drink,  and   be 
merry,  for  to-morrow  you  die'-that's  the  handwrit- 
tag  on  the  wall,  you  see.    Pooh !  pooh  I  what  am  I 


CON  o'kioan  ;  OB, 

'°  for  I  fo"-l  «»'  '-"S  "8°  ""'  ''"  ?n! 

Diri.u'.n.o>.g  ,ou  to  expound  A.  .n.8".«  »'  *• 
Hoi.   Book.    Talking  of  ih.t,  I  wM  making   » 
fuiLaometimoagofor  ,our  friend  D-,.r--w«> 
r"th.r..am.lib«tlo«n.dand.ou.ceoh,n>^ 

"r.:  r /on>tiri.:;  it  --  ,ou 

,„u  and  Wion,-in  your  ho""  of  daikne..-.J  ■  »"d 
Tonr  Mo  wifl,  too,  .ben  ah.  found  tbat  ,ou  worn 
her.  before  ber,  and  I  wonld  gi.e  '""""^JB  w  "J 
,„„  a,  ,„„  are  now     Ti...  pUa-  ,  boweve^^I 
I  Bhall  never  enjoy.     Never-never .     «    . 
mind,  I'll  live  as  long  as  I  can  and  when  I  must  go 
I  .appose  I  must,  and  there's  an  end  of  t.    Mrs. 
CouUer  made  a  great  fuss  about  ibe  state  of  my 
S  «  Bhe  called'it,  and  wonld  insist  on  my  havmg 
IrvL  to  pray  with  me,  but  I  cut  her  pretty  shor 
T  tin  vou     I  never  gave  in  to  cant  or  hypocrisy  all 
U  Ufe  and  I  mean  t!  dieas  I  have  lived !  an  honest 
^L  aid  no  Bham.    When  you  hear  of  my  death 
Co";  be  sure  that  I  died  just  as  I  tell  yo"-  -^^"^J 
fear  or  dread.    If  there  be  another  world  (wh  cl.  I 
t  ha^Llined  to  doubt,)  why.  I  am  quite  w>Uu.g 
Tuke  my  ohanoe  in  it,  for  I  think  I  have  done  my 


;  OB, 

»n  1  I  forgot,  you  Be«, 
egan.  Well !  afier  all, 
cripmre  than  one  would 

'Dg  ago  that  you  have 
uud  the  enigmas  of  the 
bat,  I  was  making  in- 
cur friend  Dwyer— was 
)uld  find  no  trace  of  him. 
knows  him  no  more.    I 

but  where  he  was  gone, 
all  me.     Weill  I  should 

happy  home  which  you 
M)lorB.     I  saw  you— both 
.ursofdarknesa— ay!  and 
,he  found  that  you  wern't 
Id  give  something  to  see 
lat  pleasure,  however,  I 
ver— never!    But.  never 
can,  and  when  I  must  go, 
ere'B  an  end  of  it.     Mrs. 
,8  about  the  state  of  my 
ffould  insist  on  my  having 
ut  I  out  her  pretty  short, 
in  to  cant  or  hypocrisy  all 
as  I  have  lived  !  an  honest 
en  you  hear  of  my  death, 
just  as  I  tell  you,  without 
be  another  world,  (which  I 
t,)  why,  I  am  quite  willing 
'or  I  think  I  have  done  my 


KMtGRAN'T  l.irE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


381 


duty  here.    In  any  case,  believe  me  to  be  your  ain> 
oere  well  wisher,  Samcel  Codltbr. 

"  P.S. — My  sisters  are  well,  and  jogging  along 
through  life,  as  usual,  with  Letty  at  their  heels. 
Poor  Letty  got  bit  lately  by  some  mad  preacher — a 
Millerite,  or  something  of  the  kind,  and  ever  since 
ray  sisters  are  bored  to  death  with  her  pious  rav- 
ings. Still  she's  about  the  same  good-natured  crea- 
ture she  ever  was,  and  often  talks  of  you  and  Winny. 
My  sisters  arc  well  pleased  to  bear  of  your  doing  so 
well,  and  they  say  you  need  not  have  been  in  such 
a  hurry  sending  the  money.  But  /  say,  you're  quite 
right  to  lessen  your  debt  as  soon  as  you  oan.  If 
you  made  any  unnecessary  delay — mind  I  say  unne- 
cessary—yoa  wouldn't  be  the  man  I  take  you  for. 
Tell  Winny  that  the  girls  often  speak  of  her,  espe- 
cially 1 1  lohel,  and  Mrs.  Coulter  often  admits  with 
(I  think)  a  remorseful  sigh  that  Winny  O'Regan 
was  a  faithful  servant.  Time  for  her  to  find  it  out, 
was  it  not  ?" 

By  the  time  Con  had  finished  reading  this  epistle 
the  tears  were  streaming  from  Winny's  eyes.  "  The 
Lord  be  praised  !"  she  cried,  "  that  Im  got  over  it 
this  turn  anyhow  !  It  might  please  G^od  to  change 
bis  heart  and  open  his  eyes  to  the  truth  before  he 
takes  him  out  of  this  world.  IIow  lightly  he  talk^ 
of  death,  poor  dear  man! — because  he  knows  nolh- 
iug  of  the  judgment  that's  to  oom<<  after  it !     May 


~I 


152  CON  o'keoan  ;  or, 

the  Lord  save  l.im  from  an  ill  end  !     Ah !  I  know- 
1  knew  there  was  something  wrong  with  him . 

..  And  me,  too,  Winny,"  said  her  brother, "  thoii^b 
I  didn't  own  it.  Thanks  be  to  God,  things  aren  t 
as  bad,  after  all,  as  they  might  be.  Sure  they  say 
that  apoplexy  is  mighty  dangerous,  and  takes  peo- 
ple off  very  suddenly.  I  hope  the  master  will 
never  have  another  turn  of  it,  though  he  seems  to 

dread  it."  ,    , 

"  Well !  I'd  be  sorry  for  anything  bad  to  come  on 
him,"  observed  Biddy,  who  had  just  come  in  from 
milking;  "  he's  a  fine  onld  gentleman,  dear  knows, 
but  then  he  mightn't  call  me  a  little  wife-I'm  sure 
it's  no  disgrace  to  be  little,  and  I  suppose  I'm  as 
well  to  be  seen  as  them  that's  far  bigger." 

Biddy  was  evidently  hurt  by  the  unlucky  allusion 
in  the  letter  to  her  diminutive  stature,  and  it  took 
some  reasoning  from  both  Con  and  Winny  to  con- 
vince her  that  Mr.  Coulter  meant  nothing  but  what 
was  kind.  However,  she  was  at  length  persuaded, 
and  volunteered  a  promise  to  say  a  pater  and  ave 
every  day  that  Mr.  Coulter  mightn't  b«  taken  short, 
and  might  get  the  grace  of  a  happy  death. 

Knowing  that  Biddy,  though  the  best  and  dearest 
of  wives,  and  the  kindest  of  sisters,  was  none  of  the 
most  discreet  in  her  conversation.  Con  took  no 
notice  at  that  time  of  the  allusion  to  Dr.  Richards, 
but  the  first  time  he  and  Winny  were  alone  togeth- 
er, he  pressed  her  so  close  with  questions  that  she 
was  obliged  to  tell  him  the  whole  affair,  and  from 


,N  ;   OR, 

ill  end  !  Ah !  I  know— 
w  wrong  wilh  him !" 
aid  her  brother,  "  thoirgh 
36  to  God,  things  aren't 
light  be.  Sure  they  say 
angerous,  and  takes  peo- 
[  hope  the  master  will 
f  it,  though  ho  seems  to 

•  anything  bad  to  come  on 
,0  had  just  come  in  from 
I  gentleman,  dear  knows ! 
me  a  little  wife— I'm  sure 
lie,  and  I  suppose  I'm  aa 
lat'fl  far  bigger." 
irt  by  the  unlucky  allusion 
lutive  stature,  and  it  took 
ih  Con  and  Winny  to  con- 
ir  meant  nothing  but  what 
3  was  at  length  persuaded, 
ise  to  say  a  pcUer  and  av» 
er  mightn't  bo  taken  short, 
of  a  happy  death, 
hough  the  best  and  dearest 
,  of  sisters,  was  none  of  the 
onversation.  Con  took  no 
e  allusion  to  Dr.  Richards, 
I  Winny  were  alone  togeth- 
)se  with  questions  that  she 
I  the  whole  affair,  and  from 


IJIIOBANT  I.IFK  IN  THE  NRW  WORLD. 


363 


the  deep,  though  suppressed  anger  which  she  saw 
legibly  written  on  his  expressive  face,  Winny  was 
very  thankful  that  he  heard  it  then  for  the  first 
time. 

"  Well !"  said  Con,  f>peaking  very  slowly,  "  there's 
no  use  talkin'  about  it  now  when  the  rascal  is  so  far 
out  of  my  reach,  but  if  I  had  only  known  it  in  time 
— well !  I  wouldn't  wish  to  hurt  him,  villain  an'  all 
as  he  is ! — but  I'd  have  wrung  his  nose  for  him,  if  I 
had  to  go  to  hia  own  office  to  do  it !" 

"And  what  good  would  that  have  done  either 
yon  or  me.  Con  dear  ?"  said  his  sister,  mildly ; 
"you  might  only  have  got  yourself  into  trouble, 
and  that  was  the  very  reason  why  I  never  let  you 
know  anything  of  it.  But,  never  mind  Dr.  Richards, 
Con,  I  forgive  him  from  my  heart,  and  may  God 
forgive  him! — just  come  here  and  look  at  the  sham- 
rock— run  in,  Micky,  my  pet!  and  see  if  your 
mother  can  come  out  a  while!"  It  was  in  the 
garden,  and  "  the  young  May  moon"  was  shining  in 
meridian  splendor. 

Away  ran  Micky,  who  returned  in  a  very  few 
minutes  with  his  mother  by  the  hand,  little  Winny 
I  hanging  by  her  skirt  at  the  other  side. 

"What's  this?"  cried  Biddy,  as  she  drew  near; 
I "  Micky  came  for  me  in  a  great  hurry,  sayin'  that 
I  his  aunt  wanted  me." 

"And  so  I  do,  Biddy  dear,"  and  Winny  putting 
I  her  arm  within  hers  drew  her  towards  a  shady  nook, 
now  illumined  by  the  soft  moonlight.     "  I  want  t« 


i«&sa*yte-pi^!w 


3^  CON  o'rboan  ;  o«, 

Bhow    you  how  well  our  shamrock  is  tbriving." 
Now  Biddy  had  brought  this  shamrock  root  all  the 
^  way  fiom  Ireland,  and  that  at  her  husband's  special 
request,  so  she  felt  deeply  interested  in  its  welfare, 
and  great  was  her  joy  when  she  found  that  it  had 
spread  considerably,  and  wore  as  bright  a  green  as 
though  it  were  still  on  some  Irish  bill-side.    She 
had  of  late  forgotten  it  altogether,  but  not  so  with 
Wiony,  who  had  watered  and  tended  it  with  un- 
ceasing  care.     Even  Con  had  latterly  lost  sight  of 
the  precious  plant,  and  as  Winny  happened  to  be 
taking  care  of  Mrs.  Landrigan,  who  wa.  seriously 
ill  when  St.  Patrick's  Day  came  round,  strange  to 
Bay  he  never  once  thought  of  his  native  shamrock, 
although  the  day  was  as  well  celebiated  as  Father 
Doran's  means  would  permit. 

"Well!  I  declare  now,  Winny,  that's  great!"  ex- 
claimed  Biddy,  bending  fondly  over  the  charmed 
spot;  "  why,  I  thought  it  would  never  grow  half  so 
well 'here  as  at  home,  and  that  I  mayn't  do  an  ill 
turn!  but  it's  as  green  as  a  leek,  and  greener,  too, 
for  that  matter!" 

"Well!  sure  enough,  it's  a  great  thing,  said 
Con,  "that  we  have  a  rale  Irish  shamrock  growin' 
in  our  garden.  I  must  bring  a  root  of  it  to  Father 
Doran  the  first  lima  I'm  passin'  that  way.  But  I 
think  I'll  just  take  a  run  over  to  Paul  Beio^u's  and 
see  how  they're  geltiu'  on  there.  Paul  will  be 
Btartin'  to-morrow  for  Dubuque,  and  I  want  to  send 


m 


EUIORANT  LIFE  IS  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


8«5 


OB, 

lamrock  is  thriving." 
shamrock  root  all  the 
her  husband's  special 
erested  in  its  welfare, 
she  found  that  it  had 
e  as  bright  a  green  as 
e  Irish  hill-side.  She 
ether,  but  not  so  with 
id  tended  it  with  un- 

I  latterly  lost  sight  of 
rinny  happened  to  be 
an,  who  wa«  seriously 
lame  round,  strange  to 
f  his  native  shamrock, 

II  oelebiated  as  Father 

• 

inny,  that's  great !"  ex- 
idly  over  the  charmed 
>uld  never  grow  half  so 
that  I  mayn't  do  an  ill 
leek,  and  greener,  too, 

a  a  great  thing,"  said 
Irish  shamrock  growin' 
g  a  root  of  it  to  Father 
lassin'  that  way.  But  I 
er  to  Paul  Bevo-*''*  ^°^ 
a.  there.  Paul  will  be 
ique,  M»d  I  want  to  send 


for  some  little  things.    Weren't  you  sayin'  yoa 
wanted  tea,  Biddy  f" 

Biddy  did  want  tea,  and  sugar,  too,  and  Winny 
wanted  something  else,  so  Con  went  off  charged 
with  some  half  a  dosen  commissions  for  Paul.     A 
few  minutes'  walk  brought  him  to  the  end  of  his 
journey,  where  Paul  Bergen's  farmhouse  stood  on 
the  top  of  a  gentle  eminence  overhanging  a  limpid 
stream.    Behind  it  were  two  or  three  outhouses,  a 
barn,  a  stable,  and  a  milkhouse,  or  dairy,  all  white 
as  lime  could  make  them.    The  house  itself  stood  a 
little  back  from  the  road,  and  the  space  in  front 
was   covered   with    fresh   grass,   forming   a  little 
bleach-green,  which  Nora  valued  as  highly  as  any 
other  of  her  possessions.     When  Con  reached  the 
low  fence  which  divided  Paul's  tenement  from  the 
high  road,  he  stopped  a  moment  and  leaned  over 
the  little  gate,  surveying  at  his  leisure  the  various 
features  of  the  scene  as  they  lay  calm  and  bright  in 
the  moonlight.     And  as  he  gaied,  memory  brought 
back  the  cellar  in  Hope  street,  where  he  had  first 
seen  Paul  Bergen  and  his  family.    He  thought  of 
Nora  as  he  'hen  saw  her,  shivering  over  a  fireless 
stove  with  a  pale,  sickly  babe  in  her  arms.    He 
thought  of  the  night  of  Peter's  death,  when  Paul 
sat  carousing  with  his  boon  companions  in  one  cor- 
ner, squandering  almost  his  last  shii.ing,  while  his 
child  lay  gasping  and  moaning  in  another,  and  his 
wretched  wife  watching  by  her  son  with  a  world  of 
unmitigftted  anguish  preying  on  her  inmost  heart 


_tsi,gmmtmt«mMm»mi«'Ms^^imm, 


rftP«S«*«?r-MS-; 


E^ 


366 


COM  o'regan  ;  OR, 


He  thought  of  the  little  naked  children,  and  the 
mother  almost  as  poorly  clad,  while  Paul  was 
spending  hia  hard  earnings  in  Phil  MeDermotl's 
har-room,  or  some  other  such  Bacchanalian  hannt. 
And  again  he  looked  on  the  smiling  scene  before 
him — the  snug  and  rather  spacious  farmhouse  with 
the  fire-light  flickering  brightly  through  the  kitchen 
window,  the  little  patch  of  grass-plot  in  front,  and 
behind,  houses  full  of  cattle,  and  grain,  and  the  va- 
rious produce  of  a  fertile  and  well-tilled  farm. 
And  Con  asked  himself  was  all  this  real  ?  was  Paul 
Bergen  indeed  the  owner  of  all  he  saw,  and  a  fer- 
vent aspiration  of  gratitude  rose  from  his  heart  as 
he  murmured,  "  yes !  thank  God !  he  is — Paul  owns 
every  stick  and  stone  of  it,  and  though  it's  a  fine 
place  and  a  comfortable  place  to  boot,  my  own  is 
not  far  behind  it.  The  Lord  in  Heaven  be  praised 
for  His  wonderful  goodness  to  us." 

So  aaying,  he  opened  the  gate,  and  then  the  door, 
and  entered  the  house  with  a  "  God  save  all  here  !" 

"  Why,  then,  God  save  you  kindly,  is  it  yourself 
that's  in  it,  Con  ?"  said  Nora  from  her  station  in  the 
chimney-corner,  where  she  sat  knitting  a  stocking, 
the  light  from  the  blazing  hearth  giving  a  warm  glow 
to  her  comely  face  and  person.  On  the  other  side 
sat  Paul,  engaged  in  fabricating  a  rod  basket. 

"  It  t»  myself,  and  nobody  else,"  replied  Con,  as  he 
drew  a  chair  towards  the  fire;  "I  heard  you  were 
for  going  to  town  to-morrow,  Paul,  so  I  just  slipped 
over  with  some  messages  from  Biddy.  These  women 


d  children,  and  the 
d,  while  Paul  was 
Phil  McDermoU's 
Bacchanalian  hannt. 
railing  scene  before 
0U3  farmhouse  with 
through  the  kitchen 
88-plot  in  front,  and 
id  grain,  and  the  va" 
nd  well-lilled  farm, 
this  real  ?  was  Paul 
M  he  saw,  and  a  fer- 
86  from  his  heart  as 
3 1  he  is — Paul  owns 
id  though  it's  a  fine 
to  boot,  my  own  is 
n  Heaven  be  praised 

U8." 

3,  and  then  the  door, 

God  save  all  here  I" 

dndly,  is  it  yourself 

om  her  station  in  the 

knitting  a  stocking, 

giving  a  warm  glow 

On  the  other  side 

;  a  rod  basket. 

B,"  replied  Con,  as  he 

"I  beard  you  were 

'aul,  80  I  just  slipped 

Jiddy.   These  women 


EMIORANT  LIFE  IS  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


361 
Hillo, 


are  always  wanting  something,  I  declare. 
Patsey  !  what  are  you  about  there  ?" 

"He's  learnin'  his  catechism,"  said  his  mother; 
"  he  caa't  read  very  well,  you  know,  but  Father 
Doran  promised  him  a  nice  picture  if  he'd  learn  a 
lesson  of  it  for  him  between  this  and  Sunday.  He  a 
so  busy  all  day,  poor  fellow !  workia'  out  with  his 
father,  that  it's  only  in  the  evenings  I  .  can  get  at  it." 
"  Poor  Patsey  !"  said  Con,  in  a  tone  of  mock 
sympathy,  "  he  has  to  work  harder  here  than  if  he 
was  still  in  the  city.  It's  a  poor  thing,  after  all,  to 
livfc  in  the  country.     Isn't  it,  Patsey  ?" 

«'  No,  indeed,"  said  Patsey,  quickly,  "  I  like  the 
country  far  better  than  the  town.  Father  never 
lets  me  do  any  work  that  I'm  not  able  for,  and  I  like 
to  help  him  with  whatever  he's  at.  I  wouldn't  go 
back  now  to  the  city  if  they  were  to  give  me  ever 
so.  Boys  like  me  have  got  nothing  to  do  there,  and 
I'd  rather  be  at  work." 

"And   what  about  Jake  Hampton  and  all  the 

others?"  asked  Con,  winking  at  Paul;   "wouldn't 

you  like  to  see  them  again  ?    I  thought  you  meant 

to  go  back  to  them  as  soon  as  you  got  the  chance  1" 

"  Oh !  I  hadn't  any  sense  then,"  said  Patsey,  with 

a  deep  blush.     "  I  don't  want  to  see  any  of  them 

follows  now.    They  were  bad  boys,  all  of  them. 

Why,  Con,  if  you'd  only  hear  the  wicked  talk  that 

they  used  to  have,  and  how  they'd  curse  and  awear 

—and  there  wasn't  one  of  them  Irish— not  one." 

"  Well  1  Patsey,"  said  Con,  "  I'm  well  pleased  to 


/ 


;■  iBa»iBiMi»a«Mw»K-' 


806 


CON   0  RKOAN'  ;   CR, 


hear  you  speak  so,  for  I  think  they  tecre  bad  boys-^ 
worse  than  any  you'll  ever  meet  out  Ijdre." 

"That's  because  they  have  nothing  to  do,"  said 
Patsey ;  "  they're  on  the  streets  most  of  their  time, 
you  kcow,  and  they  see  all  sorts  of  I  adness  there. 
If  they  were  out  hoeing  and  weeding  in  the  field  or 
in  the  garden  all  day  as  I  am,  they  wouldn't  have 
half  the  wickedness  in  them." 

"  I  can  hoe,  too !"  put  in  little  Jim,  who  was  barely 
SQven  years  old. 

"  You !"  said  Con,  in  affected  surprise ;  "  you  don't 
say  so,  Jim  ?" 

"Yes  I  can— ask  mother  if  I  didn't  help  her  and 
Janie  to  hoe  the  garden ! — didn't  I  now,  mother  ?" 

"  You  did,  indeed,  my  son,"  and  his  mother  fondly 
patted  his  head  where  he  sat  beside  her  on  a  low 
stool,  making  a  "  grenadier's  cap"  of  rushes.  "  We 
could  never  have  got  it  done  without  you,  Jim,  and 
your  father  must  bring  you  a  nice  new  cap  to-mor- 
row from  Dubuque.  You're  the  best  little  worker 
about  the  house." 

"  But  what  about  this  new  schoolmaster,"  inquir- 
ed Con,  turning  to  Paul ;  "  do  you  know  anything 
about  him  ?" 

"  Oh !  not  a  thing,"  said  Paul ;  "  how  should  / 
know  anything  about  liim? — he's  some  acquaintance 
of  Father  Doran's,  you  know  yourself,  and  that's 
just  as  much  as  I  know.  He'll  make  the  boys  and 
girls  look  sharp  at  any  rate." 

"Now,  bother  to  you,  Paull"  cried  Nora,  with  % 


they  tecrt  bad  boyi-^ 
et  out  hdre." 
nothiDg  to  do,"  said 
Its  most  of  their  time, 
srts  of  laduesa  there, 
iveeding  in  the  field  or 
1,  they  wouldn't  have 

e  Jim,  who  was  barely 

i  surprise ;  "  you  don't 

I  didn't  help  her  and 
In't  I  now,  mother  ?" 
and  his  mother  fondly 
i  beside  her  on  a  low 
cap"  of  rushes.  "  We 
without  you,  Jim,  and 
,  nice  new  cap  to-mor- 
the  best  little  worker 

schoolmaster,"  inquir- 
0  you  know  anything 

Paul;  "how  should  / 
be's  some  acquaintance 
w  '" oarself,  and  that's 
'II  make  the  boys  and 

.  I"  oried  Nora,  with  a 


EMIGRANT  MFK  IN  THE  NBW  WORLD. 


309 


smile,  •■  why  will  you  be  frightening  the  children  that 
way  ?— see  how  Patsey  looks  at  you !" 

"  Oh !  it  don't  frighten  me,  mother,"  said  Patsey ; 
"  I'll  try  and  learn  well  when  I  go  to  school,  and  then 
I'm  sure  the  master  won't  be  cross.  But  what  will 
father  do  without  me  ?"  he  suddenly  added,  for  the 
little  fellow  had  got  an  idea  that  his  assistance  was 
necessary  to  his  father. 

"  Oh !  never  mind  that,  Patsey,"  said  the  proud 
and  happy  father,  "  your  schoolin'  mustn't  be  neg- 
lected, let  what  will  come  or  go.  There's  too  much 
time  lost  already." 

"  Oh  well !  sure  I  can  do  a  good  deal  before  aud 
after  school,"  said  Patsey,  joyfully  ;  "I'll  not  be  all 
day  away."  This  difficulty  obviated,  Patsey  again 
applied  himself  to  his  book.  N  ora  then  made  a  sign 
to  Con  to  sit  over  near  her. 

"Is  it  true  what  I  hear,"  said  she,  in  a  low  voice, 
"that  Winny  and  Thady  Landrigan  re  pulling  a 
chord  together  ?" 

Con  laughed.  "  Well !  I'm  sure  I  can  hardly  tell 
you,"  said  he  ;  "  I  know  very  well  that  Thady  has  a 
liking  for  Winny,  and  tht  thinks  a  good  deal  of /dm, 
but  whether  it'll  ever  come  to  anything  between 
Ibem,  I  don't  know." 

"  I  know  myself,"  went  on  Nora,  "  that  the  old 
woman  would  be  well  pleased  if  it  did  oome  to  pass, 
for  she  thinks  the  sun  rises  and  sets  on  Winny, 
And  I  tell  you  one  thing.  Con,  between  you  and  me, 
Winny  wouldn't  make  a  bad  hit  of  it,  if  she  got 


,-,-«a. 


870 


CON  o'reoan  ;  OR, 


Thady.  He's  tii  «iart  and  eoril  of  a  good  boy,  and 
has  a  fine  place,  too,  vith  not  a  cent  of  delt  on  it." 
To  this  Con  agreed,  adding  that  for  what  he  had 
Been  of  Thady,  he  thought  very  well  of  him,  "  and, 
indeed,"  he  added,  with  a  glowing  cheek,  "thereV 
not  many  that  I'd  think  good  enough  for  Winny— 
you  know  that  well,  Mrs.  Bergen  1" 

"  I  do,  Con,  I  do,  indeed!"  said  Nora,  warmly ;  "I 
know  the  heart  you  have  to  Winny,  and  I  know  she 
deserves  it  all.  But  sure  you're  not  a-going,  are 
you?'  seeing  him  stand  up. 

"  Indeed,  then,  I  am,"  said  Con,  "  and  it's  about 
time.  I  know  this  man  of  yours  will  have  to  be 
early  on  the  road.     Good  night  to  you  all !" 

"  Won't  I  go  a  piece  with  you  ?"  said  Paul,  rising 
up  from  amongst  his  rods. 

•'  Not  a  step,  then  I  Do  you  think  I'd  be  seen 
walking  the  road  with  the  likes  of  you?  Just  stay 
at  your  basket,  for  I  see  it's  near  finished,  and  a  real 
beauty  it  is,  too,  I  know  myself.  It  looks  for  all  the 
world  like  the  creels  we  used  to  carry  the  turf  in  at 
home — now  doesn't  it,  Mrs.  Bergen  ?" 

"An'  what  if  it  does,"  interposed  Paul;  "isn't 
that  just  what  I  wanted  it  to  look  like  ?  Get  out  of 
my  house  after  that,  as  fast  as  ever  you  can,  or  I 
don't  know  what  I'll  be  tempted  to  do !  It  •  'ill  be- 
comes you,  I'm  sure,  to  make  little  of  the  creels  !" 
And  he  shook  his  fist  at  him  in  assumed  anger. 

Con  affected  to  bo  in  a  great  hurry  to  make  his 
escape,  crying,  "  Let  me  out,  let  mo  out,  will  you? 


EMIGRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


371 


;  OH, 

■otA  of  a  good  boy,  and 
t  a  cent  of  delt  on  it." 
y  that  for  what  he  had 
ery  well  of  him,  *'  and, 
lowing  cheek,  "  there's 
d  enough  for  Winny— 
pgen  1" 

said  Nora,  warmly ;  "I 
Winny,  and  I  know  she 
yrou're  not  a-going,  are 

d  Con,  "  and  it's  about 
yours  will  have  to  be 
ght  to  you  all !" 
you  ?"  said  Paul,  rising 

you  think  I'd  be  seen 
kes  of  you?  Just  stay 
near  finished,  and  a  real 
self.  It  looks  for  all  the 
d  to  carry  the  turf  in  at 
Bergen  ?" 

interposed  Paul;  "isn't 
)  look  like  ?  Get  out  of 
t  as  ever  you  can,  or  I 
pted  to  do  !  It  •  '^U  be- 
ke  little  of  the  creels  !'' 
L  in  assumed  anger. 
;reat  hurry  to  make  his 
t,  let  mo  out,  will  you? 


—Paul's  a  terrible  man  when  he's  angered  I"  On 
reaching  the  door  he  turned  back  on  his  heel,  say- 
ing: "If  you  please,  Mrs.  Bergen  I  don't  let  him 
forget  Biddy's  messsges! — there  would  be  no  stand* 
ing  her  if  he  forgot  the  tea!  she'd  be  savage  on  my 
hands,  just  like  himself!"  And  with  another  "  good 
night"  in  Irish,  he  bounded  through  the  doorway. 
But  Patsey  and  Jim  were  after  him  before  he  had 
reached  the  gate. 

"  Why,  Patsey,  what  in  the  world  are  you  about  ?" 
said  Con,  with  some  surprise ;  *'  I  thought  you 
couldn't  spare  a  minute  from  the  catechism  !" 

*<  Oh  I  I  can  spare  time  enough  to  go  a  piece  with 
you — me  and  Jim.  I  nearly  know  my  lesson  now, 
and  I'll  be  glad  to  have  a  little  walk  in  this  clear 
moonlight." 

"  But  did  you  ask  leave  to  come,  children  P" 

"  Oh,  of  course,  we  did — you  don't  think  we'd 
come  without  leave  ?  Both  father  and  mother  told 
us  to  come." 

"  Well !  well !  step  oat,  then,"  said  Con ;  "  you 
may  just  come  as  far  as  the  big  maple  tree  yonder" — 
it  was  a  solitary  maple  which  stood  on  the  roadside, 
the  remains,  perhaps,  of  a  stately  group.  "And 
now,"  said  Con,  "I  can  tell  you  something  that  I 
know  you'll  like  to  hear." 

The  boys  were  all  attention  in  a  moment.  "  Do 
you  know,"  said  Con,  "  that  we  have  some  roots  of 
Irish  shamrock  in  our  garden  ?  Biddy  brought  out 
one  with  her  planted  ia  a  little  bit  of  a  box,  and  it 


312 


boN  o'keoan  ;  or, 


has  grown  so  well  that  we  have  quite  a  little  plot 
of  it.  I  forgot  to  tell  them  at  your  house,  but  I 
mean  tv  give  your  mother  a  root." 

This  was  said  partly  to  test  the  children's  feel- 
ings on  the  subject,  and  Con  was  agreeably  sur- 
prised to  see  how  they  caught  at  the  news.  "  What'? 
that  you  say,  Con  ?"  cried  Patsey ;  "  is  it  a  real, 
real  shamrock  all  the  way  from  Ireland  ?" 

"  Just  BO !"  said  Con,  whereupon  Utile  Jim  clapped 
his  hands  and  cried  :  "  Now,  we'll  have  a  real  sham^ 
rock  for  next  St.  Patrick's  Day !— oh !  I'm  so  glad  1" 
"And  me,  too,"  added  Patsey.  "I  wish  we 
could  only  keep  our  root  from  father's  sight  till 
we'd  give  him  a  fine  bunch  of  shamrock  next  St. 
Patrick's  Day— eh,  Jim?" 

"  Well!  you  can  if  you  wish,"  said  Con,  " for  to- 
morrow when  your  father's  gone  you  can  come 
over  for  it,  and  just  plant  it  in  some  little  private 
spot  in  the  garden  where  he'll  never  notice  it." 
"  And  you  won't  tell  father,  or  mother,  or  any  of 

them?" 

"  Oh !  not  a  word,"  said  Con ;  "  never  fear  but 
I'll  keep  your  secret." 

"Now,  mind,  Jim,  you'll  not  tell  either,  will 
you?"  baid  Patsey  to  bis  brother  with  great  ear- 
nestness. 

Jim  was  quite  willing  to  give  the  required  pro- 
mise on  condition  that  he  was  allowed  to  give  a 
bunch  to  his  mother,  as  Patsey  was  to  present  one 
to  their  father.    Just  then  they  reached  the  maple 


mm 


I  ;  OR, 

have  quite  a  little  plot 
m  at  your  house,  but  I 
,  root." 

test  the  children's  feel- 
Jon  was  agreeably  sur- 
ht  at  the  news.  "What'? 
1  Patsey ;  "  is  it  a  realj 
rom  Ireland  ?" 
reupon  little  Jim  clapped 
7,  we'll  have  a  real  sham 
)ay !— oh  I  Vm  so  glad  !" 
Patsey.  "I  wish  we 
from  father's  sight  till 
h  of  shamrock  next  St. 

wish,"  said  Con,  "  for  to- 
r's gone  you  can  come 
it  in  some  little  private 
le'U  never  notice  it." 
iier,  or  mother,  or  any  of 

d  Con ;  "  never  fear  but 

a'll  not  tell  either,  will 
brother  with  great  ear- 
bo  give  the  required  pro- 
e  was  allowed  to  give  a 
atsey  was  to  present  one 
1  they  reftdied  the  maple 


KMIGKANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WOBM». 


813 


wee,  whose  gigantic  shadow  was  flung  far  over  into 
the  a-ljoining  field,  and  Con  would  not  suffer  the 
boys  to  go  any  farther.    All  the  way   home  the 
brothers  kept  talking  about  the  shamrock  and  how 
carefully  they  were  to  keep  the  secret,  and  how  de^ 
lighted  their  father  and  mother  would  be  when  they 
gave  them   each  a  bunch  on  St.  Patrick's  morning 
before  they  went  out  to  church.     Long  before  they 
reached  home,  too,  they  had  decided  on  the  very 
spot  where  the  shamrock  was  to  be  planted,  and 
said   Patsey  :  "  We'll  call  that  our  little  Ireland, 
because  it's  such  a  pretty  place,  the  prettiest  on  all 
our  land,— oh,  won't  it  be  fine,  Jim ?"    It  was  also 
debated  whether  Jane  was  to  be  admitted  into  their 
confidence,  but  on  the  whole  they  thought  it  hardly 
safe,  as  they  knew  she  couldn't  keep  anything  from 
"mother." 

It  was  with  a  lightsome  heart  and  a  buoyant  step 
that  Con  O' Regan  traced  his  homeward  way,  exult- 
ing in  the  thoughts  that  his  children  were  to  be 
brought  up  in  the  same  pure,  moral  atmosphere,  and 
under  the  same  healthy  influences  that  had  changed 
the  little  Yankee  rowdy  into  a  genuine  Irish  boy,  < 
full  of  the  traditionary  virtues  of  his  people,  and  sus- 
ceptible of  every  noble  and  generous  feeling.    While 
musing  on  this  agreeable  pabject  two  female  figures 
appeared  in  the  distance  on  the  solitary  road,  and 
Con  was  at  no  loss  to  recogniae  the  tall,  graceful 
form  of  Winny,  and  the  fairy-like  proportions  of  hia 
little  helpmate.    They  were  coming  to  meet  him  he 


874 


cos  o'rboan  ;  OR, 


knew  very  well,  so  hastening  his  steps  he  qoickly 
came  up  to  them. 

"  Why,  then,  in  the  name  of  goodness,  is  it  j  onr« 
selves  that's  in  it  f '  he  laughingly  asked ;  "  I  thought 
it  might  be  a  pair  of  ghosts.  Aren't  yon  afeard  to 
be  out  so  late  by  yoarselves  in  this  strange  coun> 
try?" 

"  Ah  then,  what  would  we  be  afraid  of?"  re- 
sponded Winny,  in  the  same  playful  tone ;  "  sure 
there's  nobody  here  to  do  us  hurt  or  harm  ?— after 
we  got  the  children  to  bed  we  just  thought  we'd 
take  a  little  walk  to  see  if  we'd  meet  you.  How 
are  they  all  at  Paul  Bergen's  ?" 

"  All  well— as  well  as  can  be." 

So  saying,  Con  opened  the  door  of  his  own  house, 
and  a  few  miuuLcs  after  they  were  all  three  kneeling 
»t  the  Rosary. 


;  o^i 


;  his  steps  he  qoiokly 


EMIGRANT  I-IFB  IN  THB  SRW  WORLD. 


316 


>f  goodness,  is  it    our* 

igly  asked  ;  "  I  thought 

Aren't  yon  afeard  to 

in  tbia  strange  coun< 

v&  be  afraid   of?"  re- 
)  playful  tone;    "  sure 

hurt  or  harm  ? — after 
we  just  thougtit  we'd 
we'd  meet  you.    How 

?" 
be." 

door  of  his  own  house, 
were  all  three  kneeling 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

On  the  following  evening,  about  five  o'clock,  a 
neighbor  who  was  passing  Con's  door  with  some 
oats  for  the  mill,  stopped  opposite  where  Con  was 
workins;  in  the  field,  and  called  to  him  that  the  new 
schoolmaster  had  arrived  and  that  he  was  wanted  at 
Paul  Bergen's  as  fast  as  he  could  go. 

•'Bless  my  soul!"  said  Con,  as  he  repeated  the 
message  to  Winny  and  his  wife,  "  aren't  they  in  a 
great  hurry  ?    One  would  think  it  was  for  life  and 
death,  and  so  Neddy  Branigan  said  wlien  he  was 
telling  me.     He  said  they  seemed  all  in  a  bustle  at 
Paul's.     At  any  rate,  I  must  start  off,  and  you  needn't 
wait  for  me  to  supper,  for  I  know  I'll  have  to  take 
mine  at  Paul's."     So  having  made  himself  "  a  little 
decent,"  as  Winny  said,  he  hurried  away  to  pay  his 
respects  to  the  stranger  and  wclconie  him  to  their 
new  settlement.     As  he  passed  by  Father  Doran'a 
house,  a  pretty  cottage  adjoiaiag  the  Church,  he 
found  the  priest  walking  to  and   fro   on  a  little 
verandah  in  front  of  the  house.    He  was  reading, 
and  Con  would  n  t  have  disturbed  him  with  any  sa- 
lulation.but  all  at  once  he  raised  his  eyes,  and  said  r 


816 


CON    0  REGAN  ;    OR, 


"  Good  evening,  Con ! — I  see  yoa'rfl  in  a  hurry." 

"  A  good  evening  kindly  to  your  reverence ! — I 
am,  then,  in  a  hurry,  Father  Doran,  for  it  scorns 
Paul's  got  back  with  the  new  master,  and  they  want 
me  over  to  see  him." 

"  And  right  glad  you'll  be  to  see  him,  too,"  said 
the  priest,  with  one  of  his  waggish  smiles.  "  Do- 
minick  Shannon  is  a  fine  old  fellow,  although,  I  dare 
Bay,  you  stand  indebted  to  him  for  many  a  good  cas- 
tigation." 

"  So  then  it  is  Dominiok  Shannon,  after  all !"  ex- 
claimed Con ;  "  well !  I  thought  the  old  man  would 
be  in  heaven  by  this  time  instead  of  coming  out 
here.    It's  mighty  queer,  so  it  is." 

"  Queer  1'  repeated  Father  Doran,  with  his  dry 
laugh ;  "  not  a  bit  queer — he'll  be  able  to  explain  it 
all  to  your  satisfaction.  He'll  give  you  chapter  and 
verse  for  it,  I  promise  yout  Harry  on,  now,  for  I 
know  they're  expecting  you." 

Con  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  said  no  more, 
seeing  that  the  priest  had  already  resumed  his  read- 
ing. On  reaching  Paul  Bergen's,  Con  saw  Patsoy 
and  Jim  at  some  distance  in  the  field,  playing  by  the 
banks  of  the  stream  with  some  other  children, 
amongst  whom  was  a  boy  bigger  and  stronger  than 
Pfttsey.  "  Can  these  be  old  Shannon's  children  f" 
said  he  to  himself;  "  surely  he  had  neither  wife  nor 
children  when  I  knew  him  I"  The  youngsters  were 
too  much  engaged  with  their  sport  to  notice  Con, 
•o  be  passed  on  and  opened  the  little  gale.     Tbs 


[;  OR, 

see  yoa'rn  in  a  hurry." 
to  your  reverence  ! — 1 
!r  Doran,  for  it  scorns 
f  master,  and  they  want 

le  to  see  him,  too,"  said 
waggish  smiles.  "  Do- 
fellow,  although,  I  dare 
im  for  many  a  good  oas- 

Shannon,  after  all !"  ex- 
jght  the  old  man  would 
instead  of  coming  out 
it  is." 

jr  Doran,  with  his  dry 
)'ll  be  able  to  explain  it 
'11  give  you  chapter  and 
I     Hurry  on,  now,  for  I 

lers,  but  said  no  more, 
ready  resumed  hia  read- 
rgen's.  Con  saw  Patsoy 
the  field,  playing  by  the 
I  some  other  children, 
igger  and  stronger  than 
d  Shannon's  children  ?" 
he  had  neither  wife  nor 
'  The  youngsters  were 
iir  sport  to  notice  Con, 
id  the  little  gate.    The 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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1.0 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4b03 


h. 


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Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


EMIGRANT  UVS  IV  THE  NBW  WORLD. 


81t 


hum  of  voices  came  from  within,  and  as  Con  stopped 
a  moment  to  collect  bis  thoughts,  he  fancied  that 
other  familiar  tones  besides  those  of  Paul  and  Nora 
fell  upon  his  ear.  ^ 

"Well!  of  course,"  said  he,  "if  old  Dommick  8 
in  it,  I  ought  to  know  Am  voice,"  so  he  placed  his 
hand  on  the  latch,  and  just  then  he  heard  one  say 

within :  ,  .     nr 

•'  Whom  the  Lord  lovetb  He  chasteneth,  Mar- 
garet—remember that,  my  poor  girl,  and  you  will 
see  in  your  heavy  sorrow  a  blessing  in  disguise . 
Con  waited  to  hear  no  more.  The  door  opened 
before  him,  and  he  rushed  in,  then  stood  a  moment 
in  breathless  amawment,  anxious  yet  unable  to 
speak.  There  before  him,  in  all  his  habitual  gravity, 
stood  Andy  Dwyer,  with  both  hands  outstretched 
in  friendly  greeting,  and  beside  Paul  Bergen  sat 
Peggy  Daly,  with  Nora's  youngest  child  on  her 

knee.  , 

"  Well,  the  Lord  be  praised !"  cried  Oon,  as  he 
warmly  shook  Andy  by  the  two  hands,  and  gazed 
inquiringlv  into  his  now  smiling  face ;  '♦  is  this  you, 
Andy  Dwyer,  or  am  I  only  in  a  dream  ?"  and  ha 
turned  his  eyes  on  Paul,  who  nodded  and  smiled, 

but  said  nothing.  . ,  »    j 

"  It  is  myself  and  no  other,  Cornelius,"  said  Andy 
at  length ;  "  I  am  happy  to  say  that  you  are  under 
no  delusion,  for  I  am  here  even  in  my  own  proper 
person.  Ai.d  here  is  another  old  acquaintance. 
Margaret,  my  child,  here  is  Cornelius  O'Regan  !" 


81S 


CON  o'ltEQAN  ;  on, 


i<  i_-I_am  glad— to  hear  him  Bpeak  again,"  mur- 
mured Peggy,  in  a  faiut  voice,  as  she  stood  up  and 
made  a  step  or  two  forward.  "  I  am  indeed.  Con, 
very,  very  glad,  and  Tom  would  have  been  glad  to 
see  you  too.  He  always  liked  you.  Con,  though  he 
never  took  your  advice."  Con  shook  hands  with 
Peggy,  who  sank  heavily  on  her  seat  and  covered 
her  face  with  both  hands. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you  in  Iowa,  Peggy,"  said  Con, 
after  an  embarrassed  silence,  during  which  he  had 
been  trying  to  think  what  all  this  could  mean, "  and 
Tom— I  hope  he's  here,  too !"  A  burst  of  tears 
was  Peggy's  answer,  and  Andy,  taking  Con  by  the 
arm,  drew  him  one  side,  where  he  told  him  in  a 
whisper  to  say  no  more  on  that  subject. 

«  Pp  ,.  Tom,"  said  he,  "  is  gone  the  way  of  all 
flesh,  and  a  sudden  death  he  met,  too— may  the 
Lord  have  mercy  on  his  soul  I— only  for  that,  poor 
Margaret  wouldn't  be  here.  Never  mention  his 
name  at  all  to  her,  unless  she  speaks  of  him  herself." 
Con  was  horrified  to  hear  of  Tom's  death,  and  a 
sudden  death  besides,  but  he  made  au  effort  to  for- 
get it  for  the  time,  and  asked  for  Mrs.  Dwyer  and 
the  children. 

"  Oh  I  they're  all  well— very  well,  indeed,"  said 
Andy ;  "  the  children  are  all  out  on  an  exploring 
expedition  with  the  young  Bergens,  and  I  believe 
Alice  is  gone  with  Mrs.  Bergen  to  visit  her  dairy. 
Altered  times'these  with  all  of  you,  Cornelius !" 
"  Altered,  indeed !"  said  Con,  still  speaking  in  an 


BUIGRANT  UlR  IK  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


Olt, 


879 


lim  speak  again,"  mur- 
e,  as  she  stood  up  and 
"  I  am  indeed,  Con, 
•uld  have  been  glad  to 
id  you.  Con,  though  he 
Con  shook  hands  with 
,  her  seat  and  covered 

)wa,  Peggy,"  said  Con, 
),  during  which  he  had 
I  this  could  mean,  "  and 
) !"    A  burst  of  tearg 
Qdy,  taking  Con  by  the 
'here  he  told  him  In  a 
that  subject, 
a  gone  the  way  of  all 
he  met,  too — may   the 
ml  I— only  for  that,  poor 
e.    Never  mention  his 
e  speaks  of  him  herself." 
r  of  Tom's  death,  and  a 
6  made  an  effort  to  for- 
ced for  Mrs.  Dwyer  and 

very  well,  indeed,"  said 
all  out  on  an  exploring 
;  Bergens,  and  I  believe 
rgen  to  visit  her  dairy, 
il  of  you,  OorneliuB!" 
Coo,  stUl  speaking  in  an 


ibstracted  tone,  for  he  had  not  yet  got  over  his 
bewilderment ;  "  but  how  did  you  all  get  here,  and 
Where's  the  schoolmaster  ?" 

This  last  question  was  addressed  to  Paul,  who 
ihrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  laughed  in  Con's 
face.  "  Where  would  he  be  ?"  said  he,  "  cnly  in 
Andy  Dwyer's  shoes  there  ? — don't  you  think  he'll 
make  as  good  a  master  as  Dominick  Shannon  the 
best  day  ever  he  saw  ? — «h  now,  Con  1" 

'•  Why,  to  be  sure  hf.  will,"  said  Con,  cheerfully, 
"for  he  knows  far  more  than  ever  poor  Shannon 
did.  But,  is  it  possible,  Andy,  that  it  was  for  you 
Father  Doran  sent  ?" 

"  If.  is  not  only  possible  but  true,"  replied  Andy, 
"  and  I  believe  he  kept  the  secret  from  you  just  to 
play  a  trick  on  you.  He  was  ever  and  always  ford 
of  practical  jokes,  God  bless  his  kind  heart  I  He 
sent  for  us  all — every  one — and  you  may  be  sure 
Alice  and  myself  were  nothing  loath  to  avail  our* 
selves  of  his  goodness.  So,  if  you'll  have  me,"  he 
added,  with  a  smile,  'Tm  come  to  train  up  jour 
rising  generation  *  in  the  way  they  should  go,'  as  the 
Wise  Man  has  it." 

Anothi  r  warm  shake  of  the  hand  was  Con's  an- 
swer, and  just  then  the  back  door  opening  gave 
admission  to  Mrs.  Dwyer  and  her  happy  hostess, 
the  latter  carrying  a  dish  of  th'.ok  cream.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  Con  and  Mrs.  Dwyer  were 
mutually  glad  to  meet  again  under  such  favorable 
•uspioes,  and  that  joy  was  depicted  on  every  face, 


389 


C0>!    O'UEGAN  J    OR, 


■with  the  single  exception  of  poor  Peggy,  on  whose 
features  an  habitual  melancholy  had  aettlcd— a 
melancholy  that  nothing  could  disturb.  But  Nora 
was  the  kindest,  the  most  attentive  of  friends,  and 
her  voice  had  a  soothing  influence  on    Peggy's 

darkened  soul. 

The  sound  of  mirthful  voices  mingled  with  loud 
bursts  of  Unghter  speedily  announced  the  arrival  of 
the  youngsters  who  burst  in  pell-mell,  thinking  of 
nothing  in  the  world  but  their  recent  sport.    The 
young  Dwyers  were  somewhat  abashed  on  seeing 
Con,  but  their  timidity  was  of  short  duration,  when 
he  began  to  talk  to  them  of  all  the  strange  sights 
they  had  to  see  about  their  new  home,  and  all  the 
untlied  pleasures  of  wood  and  field.    Andy  looked 
on  with  a  pleasant  and  happy  smile,  nodding  occa- 
sionally at  his  wife,  with  an  air  that  seemed  to  say : 
"  What  a  place  this  will  be  for  us  and  the  children !" 
As  his  eye  rested  on  Patsey  Bergen,  now  a  tall,  mus- 
cular boy  of  ten  or  thereabouts,  a  grave  simle  sud- 
denly lighted  up  his  features. 

«  Come  here,"  said  he,  "Silas,  or  Jeff— why,  then, 
what  sort  of  a  memory  have  I  at  all,  that  I  can't  re- 
member that  name  of  yours  ?— what's  this  it  is,  my 
little  man  ?— oh,  now  I  thir.k  of  it,  you're  littUj  Honry 
Clay— are  you  not  r" 

Paul  was  going  to  answer,  but  Andy  made  a  sign 
to  him  to  keep  quiet. 

"No,  no,  cried  Patsey,"  eagerly,  "my  name  k 
Patrick— Palsey,  you  know !" 


;  08, 

poor  Peggy,  on  whoM 
icholy  bad  aettlcd — a 
Id  disturb.  But  Nora 
tenlive  of  friends,  and 
iDfluenco   on    Peggy's 

ices  mingled  witli  loud 
atounced  the  arrival  of 
1  pell-mell,  thinking  of 
leir  recent  sport.    The 
rhat  abashed  on  seeing 
of  short  duration,  when 
»f  all  the  strange  sights 
r  new  home,  and  all  the 
md  field.     Andy  looked 
py  smile,  nodding  occa- 
air  that  seemed  to  say : 
for  us  and  the  children !" 
Bergen,  now  a  tall,  mus- 
louts,  a  grave  snwle  sud- 

9. 

Silas,  or  Jeff— why,  then, 
3 1  at  all,  that  I  can't  re- 
g  ?— wbai's  this  it  is,  my 
k  of  it,  you're  little  Hpnry 

jr,  but  Andy  made  a  sign 

"  eagerly,  "my  name  ii 


EMIGRANT  I.IFK  I.S  THB  NEW  WOai.t>. 


381 


r! 


!'» 


«  Why,  then,  I  declare,  so  it  is,"  said  Andy,  "  how 
in  the  world  could  I  make  such  a  mistake?  But, 
then,  after  all,  Patrick  is  such  an  ugly  name.", 

"Oh I  no,  Mr.  Dwyer,"  said  Patsey,  quickly; 
i^  Patrick  is  a  good  name,  and  I  like  it  now  better 
than  any  other.  I  used  to  not  like  it,  but  that  was 
long  ago  when  I  was  a  little  fellow  and  didn't  know 
any  better.  The  Yankee  boys  said  it  wasn't  a  pretty 
name,  but  if  I  were  there  now,  Id  tell  them  it  was 
better  than  any  of  theirs.  Why,  Jeff  and  Wash  and 
all  such  names  that  I  used  to  think  ever  so  mce,  are 
only  fit  for  dogs.  But  that's  true,  Terry,  you  didn't 
Bee  my  dog  Pincher?" 

Terry  answered  in  the  negative,  whereupon  the 
whole  juvenile  party  trooped  off  again  on  a  nsw 
ncent,  leaving  their  seniors  to  comment  at  leisure  on 
(vhat  had  just  passed. 

"  Ah !"  said  Peggy  Daly,  suddenly  breaking  silence, 
After  she  had  listened  a  while  to  the  others,  "ah!  if 
poor  Tom  had  only  come  out  here  in  time,  or  any- 
where else  only  where  he  did  go,  he  might  have  been 
a  livin'  man  this  day,  and  a  prosperous  man,  loo. 
Och  1  ochl  but  it  V3A  the  black  day  for  him  an'  me 
when  he  settled  down  in  that  unfortunate  place.' 

Con  listened  to  the  poor  girl's  incoherent  ravings 
with  a  heart  full  of  tender  sympathy,  but  he  stiU 
wondered  what  had  brought  her  away  from  her  only 
relatives  to  a  new  and  distant  country.  This  ques- 
tion he  put  to  Mrs.  Dwyer  as  he  thought  in  a  very 
cautious  whisper,  but  it  did  not  escape  Peggy's  qmck 


881 


CON   o'recan  ;  OH, 


ear,  and  she  replied  with  startling  vehemence :  "  la 
it  me  stay  in  that  hateful  place  when  Tom  was  gone-? 
—sure- all  the  good  that  was  in  me  was  mindin'  him, 
and  tryin'  to  keep  him  out  of  harm's  way,  for  there 
■was  no  one  could  do  anything  with  him  but  me. 
An'  och!  ochi  wasn't  he  like  a  little  child  when  I 
Bpoke  to  him,  and  God  he  knows  I  was  hard  on  hira 
at  times -too  hard,  may  be,  but  then  it  was  all  for 
his  own  good,  an'  he  knew  that  well.  But  at  any 
rale,  he's  dead— dead— and  I  wouldn't  stay  in  the 
place  for  a  mint  of  money !— what  for  would  I  ?" 

"But  your  sister,  Peggy?'  said  Con,  hesitatingly, 
overawed  by  the  strange  vehemence  of  her  manner. 
"And  what  of  her?"    she  responded    quickly; 
"what  was  she  to  me— or  what  was  I  to  her? 
Anty  has  her  husband  and  her  children— she  has  no 
need  of  me  —she  never  fell  into  my  ways  nor  I  into 
hers,  sisters  an'  all  as  we  are !    I  got  more  comfort 
Con   O'Regan,  from  your  own   sister  Winny,  un' 
from  Mrs.  Bergen,  an'  Mrs.  Divyer  here,  than  I  ever 
got  from  Amy  Brady,  long  as  we  wete  together, 
an'  that's  just  the  reason  why  I  mada  my  way  out 
here,  to  live  and  die  among  you  all.     The  Lord's 
biessiu'  be  about  Mr.  Coulter,  an'  his  two  sisters, 
it's  them  I  may  thank  for  being  where  I  am." 

"Well!  sure  enough,"  said  Paul,  "I  did  wonder, 
Peggy,  where  you  got  the  means  of  comin'  out  here 
—I  knew  very  well  you  hadn't  it  of  your  own." 
"Is  it  me?"  cried  Peggy,  stili  iu  the  same  excited 


UN  ;    OR, 

startling  vehemence :  "  Is 
lace  M'hcn  Tom  was  gone-? 
as  in  me  was  mindin'  him, 
of  harm's  way,  for  there 
i^tbing  with  him  but  me. 
like  a  little  child  when  I 
knows  I  was  hard  on  him 
B,  but  then  it  was  all  for 
w  that  well.    But  at  any 
d  I  wouldn't  Slay  in  the 
— what  for  would  I  ?" 
? '  said  Con,  hesitatingly, 
ehemence  of  her  manner, 
she   responded    quickly  ; 
or  what  was  I  to  her? 
her  children— she  has  no 
I  into  my  ways  nor  I  into 
re  I    I  got  more  comfort 
own   slater  Winny,  an' 
Dwyer  here,  than  I  ever 
ig  as  we  weKe  together, 
why  I  mada  my  way  out 
Ig  you  all.     The  Lord's 
Iter,  an'  his  two  sisters, 
eing  where  I  am." 
lid  Paul,  ''I  did  wonder, 
means  of  comin'  out  here 
In't  it  of  your  own." 
still  iu  the  same 


EMIGRANT  f.lFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


S8S 

these 


■        fore  n 
izcited        I 


tone ;   "  why,  I  could  never  raise  as  much 
years  past  ao  would  buy  me  a  new  dress." 

"An'  did  they  give  you  enough  to  bring  you?" 
asked  Con,  his  head  full  of  the  Coulter  family. 

"  If  they  didn't,"  said  Peggy,  "  they  gave  a  good 
share  of  it  between  the  three  of  them,  an'  the  rest 
they  made  up  among  their  friends.  An'  what  do 
you  think  but  Mr.  Coulter  wanted  me  to  go  to  some 
great  eye  doctor  that  he  knew,  an'  have  him  exa- 
mine my  eyes,  an'  that  he'd  pay  any  expense  there 
might  be,  if  there  was  an  operation,  but  I  wouldn't 
hear  to  him.  If  Tom  had  lived  I  would,  with  all 
the  veins  of  my  heart,  but  when  he  was  gone  I 
didn't  care.  I'm  just  as  well  as  I  am,  an'  better, 
too,  for  I  can  see  no  one  but  him,  an'  I  have  him 
always  before  me.  But,  sure,  sure,  amn't  I  the  fool 
ish  creature  to  be  talkin'  so  much  about  myself. 
How  is  Winny,  Con,  and  your  wife  and  children — 
now  that  I  mind  to  ask  for  them — an',  indeed,  it's 
not  always  that  I  have  my  wits  about  me." 

"They're  all  well,  Peggy,  thanks  be  to  God,  well 
and  happy.  I'm  sure  they'll  be  overjoyed  to  see 
you  all,  an'  especially  Winny.  I  must  hurry  ofiF 
home  an'  let  them  know,  I  declare  it's  like  a  dream 
to  myself  yet.     I  can  hardly  b'lieve  it." 

"  Well  1  I'm  sure,"  said  Paul  Bergen,  "  you're  not 
any  more  surprised  than  I  was  when  I  saw  who  was 
waitin'  for  us  in  Dubaque.  If  the  earth  opened  be« 
my  eyes  I  couldn't  have  been  more  astonished 


884 


cox    0  REGAN  ;    OR, 


Wasn't  it  the  fine  trick  Father  Doran  playeQ  ou  tib 

all?" 

"Wasn't  it  now  P  said  Con,  as  he  stood  np  to 
go,  "  an'  I  wish  you'd  just  seen  the  smile  he  had  on 
him  when  I  was  comin'  past,  an'  him  tellin'  nio  to 
hurry  on  till  I'd  see  Dorainick  Shannon." 

"  Dominick  Shannon !"  repeated  Andy  in  sur- 
prise, whereupon  Con  told  Paul  to  give  an  account 
of  Biddy's  supposition,  and  how  it  had  got  to  the 
priest's  ears,  "  for,"  said  he,  "  I  think  every  minute 
an  hour  till  I  get  home  with  the  news." 

"And  mind,"  said  Nora,  following  him  to  the 
door,  "mind  and  bring  them  all  back  with  you  just 
as  soon  as  ever  they  can  get  ready.  Felix  and 
Judy  will  be  over,  an'  please  God  we'll  have  a  plea- 
sant evening  of  it.  Make  haste  now,  an'  don't  let 
the  grass  grow  under  your  feet." 

Great  as  Con's  hurry  was  he  could  not  pass  the 
priest's  house  without  letting  Father  Doran  know 
how  grateful  they  all  were  to  him  for  restoring  a 
valued  friend  to  their  midst,  while  providing  for 
the  instruction  of  their  children.  Unfortunately 
the  priest  was  not  in.  He  had  gone  out  on  a  sick 
call. 

There  was  nothing  for  it,  then,  but  to  hasten 
home,  and  when  Con  reached  there  he  was  assailed 
■with  a  shower  of  questions  touching  the  new  mas- 
ter, to  all  of  which  he  gave  evasive  answers,  and 
kept  on  as  grave  a  face  as  possible. 

"  Put  away  that  wheel,  Biddy  dear,"  said  he  "  and 


BMIdBANT  UFR  IN  THR  NRW  WORLD. 


8811 


)R, 

Doran  playeil  ou  na 

,  as  he  Btood  np  to 

the  Bmile  he  had  on 

n'  him  tellin'  lao  to 

Jhannon." 

jated   Andy  in   eur- 

il  to  give  an  account 

)w  it  had  got  to  the 

[  think  every  minute 

e  news." 

)lIowing  him  to  the 

11  back  with  you  just 

t  ready.    Felix  and 

^od  we'll  have  a  plea- 

te  now,  an'  don't  let 
» 

e  could  not  pass  the 

Falhep  Doran  know 

him  for  restoring  a 

while  providing  for 

dren.     Unfortunately 

id  gone  out  on  a  sick 

then,  but  to  hasten 

there  be  was  assailed 

uching  the  new  mas- 

etasive  answers,  and 

sible. 

ly  dear,"  said  he  "  and 


Ton,  Winny,  leave  by  your  sewing.  Get  yourselve* 
and  the  children  ready  as  fast  as  you  can,  for  Mrs, 
Borgen  wants  us  all  over." 

The  women  demurred  at  these  peremptory  orders, 
and  would  have  insisted  on  knowing  why  it  was  that 
Nora  wanted  them  so  badly. 

"  If  it's  the  eld  master  that's  in  it,"  obsurved 
Biddy,  "  I'll  be  glad  to  see  him  sure  enough,  but 
then  there's  no  need  for  making  such  a  fuss.  He  s 
no  great  hand  at  fussin'  himself,  unless  he's  greatly 
changed.     Is  it  him,  Con,  or  is  it  not  ?" 

"  I  told  you  before  that  you'll  be  nothing  the  wiser 
for  me,"  said  Con,  laughingly;  "unless  you  go  your- 
selves you'll  just  stay  in  the  dark  as  you  are  now." 

"  Well !"  said  Winny,  as  she  rose  and  put  by  her 
work,  "  I  think  we  may  as  well  give  in,  Biddy.  Get 
up,  astore  machree,  and  let  us  get  on  our  things.  We 
have  the-  milk  strained  up,  and  the  cream  in  the 
chum  ready  for  the  morning,  so  there's  nothing  to 
keep  as  from  going.  I  see  by  Con's  eye  that  there's 
something  in  it  past  the  common.  Come  now,  do 
you  dress  Micky  and  I'll  take  Winny  in  hands." 

Biddy  was,  at  bottom,  quite  willing  to  be  per- 
suaded, for  she  dearly  loved  a  little  company,  and 
her  curiosity  was  a  strong  incentive  on  this  particu- 
lar occasion.  The  wheel,  then,  was  cheerily  laid 
aside,  and  in  a  very  short  time  the  little  party  sallied 
forth,  Con  carrying  the  youngest  child  in  his  arms. 

Great  was  the  surprise  and  greater  the  joy  of 
Winny,  when,  on  entering  Paul  Bergen's,  she  found 


186 


CON  o'keqan  ;  OR, 


herself  encircled  by  the  slender  arms  of  Peggy  Daly, 
who,  apprized  of  her  near  approach,  had  stationed 
herself  just  inside  the  door  for  that  purpose.     Mrs, 
Dwyer  was  the  next  to  press  forward  to  claim  Win- 
ny's  welcome,  her  eyes  full  of  joyful  tears,  and  her 
comely  face  all  in  a  glow.    Lastly  came  Andy,  with 
hand  outstretched,  and  a  friendly  greeting  on  his 
lips,  ending  with  "  how  wonderful  are  the  ways  of 
God,  VVinny !"  and  by  the  time  VVinny  had  returned 
his  warm  shake  hands,  she  was  completely  bewil- 
dered.    Looking  from  one  to  the  other,  she  stood 
the  picture  of  blank  amazement,  while  all  the  others, 
with  the  exception  of  Biddy  and  Peggy,  indulged  in 
a  hearty  laugh  at  her  expense.     Even  Andy  smiled, 
and  condescended  to  perpetrate  a  joke  by  asking 
whether  they  still  took  him  for  Master  Shannon,  that 
they  stood  gaping  at  him  so.     As  for  Peggy,  she 
clung  to  Winny's  arm,  whispering  in  h.r  softeat  ac- 
cents :  "  Don't  you  know  me,  Winny  ?— aren't  you 
glad  to  see  me  again  ? — I'm  sure  I'd  be  glad  if  I 
could  only  see  you  as  you  see  «i«." 

"  And  I  am  glad,  dear,"  said  Winny,  at  length, 
fondly  returning  the  gentle  creature's  caress ;  "  I  am 
glad  to  see  you,  and  you're  welcome  a  thousand 
times.  But  sure  I  thought  at  first  it  was  all  a  dream. 
I  can't  get  it  into  my  head,  at  all,  that  you're  here, 
Peggy,  and  Andy  there,  and  Mrs.  Dwyer.  And  the 
children — are  they  here,  too  ?" 

"Every  soul  of  them,"  said  Mrs.  Dwyer,  laugh 
bgly;  "you'll  see  them  all,  by  and  by.    We're  the 


i    OR, 

er  arms  of  Peggy  D»ly, 
approach,  had  stationed 
or  that  purpose.  Mrs. 
I  forward  to  claim  Win- 
of  joyful  tears,  and  her 
jaslly  came  Andy,  with 
•iendly  greeting  on  his 
derful  are  the  ways  of 
me  VVinny  had  returned 

was  completely  bewil- 
io  the  other,  she  stood 
ent,  while  all  the  others, 

and  Peggy,  indulged  in 
se.  Even  Andy  smiled, 
jtrate  a  joke  by  asking 
for  Master  Shannon,  that 
so.  Ab  for  Peggy,  she 
pering  in  h.r  softest  ac- 
ae,  Winny  ? — aren't  you 
n  sure  I'd  be  glad  if  I 
ie  me." 

'  said  Winny,  at  length, 
creature's  caress ;  "  I  am 
're  welcome  a  thousand 
it  first  it  was  all  a  dream. 
,  at  all,  that  yow're  here, 
J  Mrs.  Dwyer,     And  the 

jaid  Mrs.  Dwyer,  laugh 
1,  by  and  by.    We're  the 


EllICRANT  LIFE  IS  THf:  NF.W  WORLD. 


887 


tenants  for  that  nice  little  school-house  that  Paul 
showed  us  as  we  came  along." 

"  Well!"  said  Biddy  O'liegau,  "after  all  Im  not 
sorry  that  it  isn't  old  Shannon  we  have.  Fathei 
Doran  knew  well  enough  what  he  was  about." 

"But,  tell  me  this,  Andy,"  said  Con,  "how  dia 
you  and  Father  Doran  come  acquainted  ? — I  know 
you  are  not  from  the  same  place  at  home,  nor  even 
from  the  same  county." 

•'  I'll  just  tell  you,  then,"  said  Andy  ;  "  it  was 
when  I  was  working  on  the  railroad  that  Father 
Doran,  long  life  to  him  I  came  collecting  among  us 
laborers  for  a  church  he  was  building  about  twenty 
miles  from  there.  So  he  began  to  chat  with  myself 
about  one  thing  and  another,  and  he  was  pleased  to 
say  that  it  wasn't  there  I  should  be,  if  right  took 
place.  He  came  back  again  and  said  Mass  for  us 
one  Sunday,  and  he  promised  me  that  day  that  he'd 
keep  me  in  mind  if  he  ever  saw  an  opening  for  me 
You  see  he  has  kept  his  promise,  may  the  Lord 
reward  him !" 

Felix  Bergen  and  Judy  now  coming  in,  the  cere- 
mony of  introduction  had  to  ba  gone  through,  Andy 
putting  on  the  full  measure  of  dignity  becoming  his 
new  office.  With  a  grave  and  very  low  bow  he 
"  thanked  Mr.  Felix  Bergen  and  his  good  lady  for 
their  very  cordial  welcome,  and  hoped  he  would 
have  the  pleasure  of  instructing  their  little  ones  iu 
the  various  branches  of  a  polite  education." 
Tbia  raised  a  general  laugh  at  the  expense  of  Fe 


888 


CON  o'regah  ;  OR, 


lix  and  J.idy,  who  blushed  a  little  at  first,  but  very 
soon  joined  in  with  the  others  and  laughed  good- 
humoredly,  Andy  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in 
surprise,  but  Paul  soon  explained  the  matter  to  his 
satisfaction,  by  telling  him  that  Felix  had  "  neither 
chick  nor  child"  but  himself  and  his  belter  half. 

Meanwhile  Winny  and  Peggy  had  retired  to  a 
corner,  where  the  story  of  poor  Tom  Dorragh's 
death  was  poured  into  Winny's  attentive  ear,  as  mi- 
nutely and   distinctly   as  Peggy's  strong  emotion 
would  permit.     He  had  fallen,  it  seemed,  into  the 
lower  hold  of  a  vessel,  and  his  head  coming  in  con- 
tact with  a  bar  of  iron,  the  skull  was  so  severely 
fractured  that  he  lived  but  a  few  hours,  and  that  in 
a  state  of  utter  insensibility.     "Even   me,"  said 
Peggy,  in  a  choking  voice,  "  even  me  he  didn't  know. 
He  was  carried  to  his  boardin'-house — an",  och  !  but 
that  was  the  unlucky  house  to  Aim— an'  we  were  all 
sent  for.     The  priest  an'  the  doctor  were  there,  too, 
but  what  could  they  do  for  him  ?    The  doctor  probed 
the  wound,  they  told  ma,  an'  shook  his  head  an'  said 
it  was  a  bad  business,  an'  as  for  the  priest,  why  hi 
could  do  nothing  at  all  only  say  a  prayer  fov  Toni, 
for  the  poor  fellow  had  no  more  sense  in  him  than  a 
log.     An'  that's  the  way  he  died,  Winny— that's  the 
way  he  died.     Oh  1  may  the  Lord  forgive  him  hi;* 
sins,  for  sure,  sure,  he  wasn't  bad  of  himself,  only 
the  company  he  fell  in  with,  an'  the  cursed  way  of 
livin'  they  all  had."     Here  a  burst  of  tears  oame  to 
Peggy's  relief,  and  Winny  could  not  offer  a  word  of 


;  OR, 

little  at  first,  but  very 
era  and  laughed  good- 
•oin  one  to  the  other  in 
ained  the  matter  to  his 
hat  Felix  had  "  neither 
and  his  belter  half, 
eggy  had  retired  to  a 
i"  poor  Tom  Dorragh's 
y's  attentive  ear,  as  mi- 
'eggy's  strong  emotion 
len,  it  seemed,  into  the 
his  head  coming  in  oon- 
e  skull  was  so  severely 
I  few  hours,  and  that  in 
ity.     "Even  me,"  said 
even  me  he  didn't  know, 
in'-house — an",  och  !  but 
to  him — an'  we  were  all 
3  doctor  were  there,  too, 
Im?    The  doctor  probed 
'  shook  his  head  an'  said 
B  for  the  priest,  why  he 
y  say  a  prayer  fci-  Torn, 
nore  sense  in  him  than  a 
died,  Winny— that's  the 
6'  Lord  forgive  him  hisi 
in't  bad  of  himself,  only 
li,  an'  the  cursed  way  of 
a  burst  of  tears  came  to 
lould  not  offer  a  word  of 


EMIGRANT  I.IfE  IN  THE  NF.W   W>)RI,D. 


889 


consolation,  she  oould  only  press  the  morurner'g 
hand  and  smooth  down  the  fair  hair  over  her  snowy 
forehead. 

After  a  while,  when  Winny  thonght  she  had  in- 
dvilged  this  silent  sorrow  long  enough,  ^he  suddenly 
asked  Peggy  how  she  had  left  their  friend  Letty, 
and  whether  she  was  still  with  the  Misses  Coulter. 
On  hearing  this,  Peggy  hastily  dried  her  tears,  and 
said  with  something  approaching  to  a  smile  : 

"  Why,  then,  to  be  sure,  she  is  !  how  could  they 
get  along  without  her,  or  how  without  them  ?  They 
Bay  she's  a'most  mad  with  religion  of  late,  but  I'm 
sure  I  found  her  a  kind,  good  friend,  if  she  was  as 
mad  again.  What  do  you  think,  Winny  de&r,  but 
she  gave  me  five  dollars  to  help  to  pay  my  way  out 
here.  She  did,  indeed,  Winny,  and  a  good  Coburg 
dress,  besides.  The  Lord's  blessin'  be  ahout  her! 
I'll  pray  for  her  every  day  I  rise,  that  she  may  be 
brought  to  see  the  truth." 

*' Poor  Letty  ! "  said  Whinny,  with  a  heavy  sigh; 
"  poor  Letty  I"  it  makes  my  heart  sore  every  time  I 
think  of  the  state  she's  in,  and  knov.  ing  what  she 
ought  to  be,  too.  Oh!  if  the  Lord  would  only  hear 
our  prayers  for  her,  and  the  dear  good  ladies  that 
she  lives  with,  and  Mr.  Coulter— if  they  were  all  in 
the  safe  way,  I'd  be  content  to  die  this  very  hour. 
My  heart  is  full  of  gratitude  to  them,  and  while  I 
live,  I'll  never  forget  them,  day  or  night.  But  that'i 
true,  Peggy  dear  I  where  are  you  going  to  stay  ?" 
«  Well !  myself  doesn't  right  know,"  replied  Pegf 


890 


OON  o'regan  ;  OR, 


gy,  with  some  embarrassment ;  "  if  I  thought  I  haJ 
any  chance  of  bein'  near  you  I'd  be  easy  in  my  mind, 
for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  it  was  to  you  an'  Mrs.  Paul 
Bergen  I  came,  an'  sure  her  family  is  large  enough 
already." 

"  Well,  never  mincl,  Peggy  os^we."  said  Winny, 
softly,  "  I'll  tell  you  a  little  secret  that'll  make  your 
mind  easy,  as  you  say  yourself"  Whatever  Winny 
whispered  into  Peggy's  ear,  it  must  have  been  of  a 
pleasant  nature,  for  it  brought  a  warm  glow  and  a 
bright  smile  to  the  face  of  the  blind  girl.  The 
whisper  did  not  escape  the  watchful  eyes  of  friends 
and  relatives,  and  its  purport  was  evidently  sus- 
pected, for  many  a  shrug  and  wink  was  exchanged 
on  the  bead  of  it. 

Just  then  Winny  was  summoned  to  assist  Mrs. 
Bergen  in  her  culinary  avocations,  and  while  she 
was  engaged  in  arranging  the  table  for  the  evening 
meal,  an  i-mportant  addition  was  made  to  the  party 
in  the  person  of  Father  Doran,  who  came  to  wel- 
come his  old  acquaintance,  and  to  congratulate  him 
and  his  family  on  their  safe  arrival. 

"  And  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  the  good  priest 
as  he  took  possession  of  the  seat  of  honor,  namely, 
a  high-backed  rush-bottomed  chair,  "to  tell  the 
truth  I  had  a  more  selfish  motive  in  coming,  for  I 
know  you  all  feel  happy,  and  I  wish  to  have  a  share 
in  yoar  happiness  It  does  »n  old  man  like  me  a 
world  of  good  to  see  happy  faces  round  him." 
"  Ah  !  the  Lord  blesa  your  reverence,"  said  Felii 


EMKiRANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


t;  "if  I  thought  I  had 
I'd  be  easy  in  my  mind, 
as  to  you  an'  Mrs.  Paul 
family  is  large  enough 

:y  astore"  said  Winny, 
ecret  that'll  make  your 
3lf."  Whatever  Winny 
it  must  have  been  of  a 
iht  a  warm  glow  and  a 
)f  the  blind  girl.  The 
watchful  eyes  of  friends 
ort  was  evidently  sus- 
id  wink  was  exchanged 

tnmoned  to  assist  Mrs. 
^cations,  and  while  she 
le  table  for  the  evening 
was  made  to  the  party 
ran,  who  came  to  wel- 
ind  to  congratulate  him 
arrival. 

ih,"  said  the  good  priest 
B  seat  of  honor,  namely, 
led  chair,  "to  tell  the 
motive  in  coming,  for  I 
d  I  wish  to  have  a  share 
)  an  old  man  like  me  a 
'  faces  round  him." 
iir  reverence,"  said  Felix 


391 
Yoa 


Bergen  :  "  sure  it's  all  along  your  own  doing, 
tricked  these  people  finely  !" 

"  Well,  yes,  I  rather  think  I  did,"  said  the  priest, 
with  one  of  his  merriest  laughs,  for  he  evidently  en. 
joyed  the  joke;  "if  to-day  had  been  the  first  of 
April,  my  friend  Con  here  would  have  felt  rather 
small  on  seeing  Andy— I  beg  pardon— I  mean  An- 
drew."    The  new  schoolmaster  bowed  and  smiled 
graciously.     "  I  believe  he  had  just  as  much  expecta- 
tion of  seeing  the  man  in  the  moon,  and,  indeed, 
thought  far  more  of  seeing  that  venerable  person- 
age, Master  Shannon,  peace  to  the  good  man,  be  he 
living  or  dead  !    But,  come  here,  Patsey,  my  boy, 
and  bring  your  young  friend  with  you.     Sit  down 
here  both  of  yon  beside  me  till  we  have  a  talk." 

The  talk,  however,  was  soon  interrupted  by  Nora 
asking  if  his  reverence  wouldn't  sit  over  to  the  table 
and  have  a  cup  of  tea. 

"Most  willingly,  Mrs.  Bergen,"  and  Father  Doran 
advanced  with  a  smile  to  the  seat  pointed  out  for 
him  by  the  hostess.  "  I  see  you  have  something  for 
us  more  substantial  than  tea.  Come  along,  Andrew, 
bring  Mrs.  Dwyer  over  to  the  table,  till  you  try  our 
Western  cheer.  Come,  Felix,  what  are  you  about  ?" 
Thus  gracefully  assuming  a  command  which  he  well 
knew  was  most  pleasing  to  his  host  and  hostess, 
Father  Doran  set  every  one  about  him  at  ease,  and 
the  company  were  soon  seated  in  due  rotation. 

"  Well,  Con,"  said  Mrs.  Bergen  as  ^he  handed  him 
his  first  cup  of  tea,  Paul  having  previously  helped 


892 


CON  o'regan  ;  OR, 


him  to  a  good  slice  of  cold  roast  mutton,  "  tbis  is 
not  like  the  first  meal  you  had  in  our  house.  Wo 
had  neither  roast  nor  boiled  then,  Con,  except  a 
dozen  or  so  of  soapy  potatoes  that  we  paid  double 
'^  and  treble  price  for,  and  a  few  pounds  of  fried  ham, 
half  of  it  salt.  Now  thanks  be  to  the  Lord,  we  have 
our  own  fowl  of  every  kind,  our  own  pork  and  mut- 
ton, and  in  a  little  time,  we'll  have  our  own  beef,  too. 
At  times  when  I  look  round  mc,  I  can  hardly  think 
but  w^hat  it's  dreamin'  I  am.  Felix !  won't  you  give 
Mrs.  l)wyer  a  wing  of  that  chicken  and  a  bit  of  the 
breast  with  it !  And  Mrs.  O'Regan  and  Winny 
here — why,  bless  my  soul!  Paul,  what  are  you 
thinkin'  of?  Here's  Peggy  hasn't  a  tiling  on  her 
plate  yet." 

"  But  will  no  one  patronize  me,"  said  Father 
Doran,  who  had  a  fine  boiled  ham  before  him ;  "  I 
can  recommend  this  ham,  I  assure  you." 

This  was  enough.  The  ham  was  duly  tried,  and 
all  the  other  good  things  in  like  manner,  and  the 
meal  went  on  briskly  and  merrily,  the  presence  of 
the  priest,  and  his  flow  of  ready  wit,  giving  an  ad- 
ditional charm  to  the  whole.  Every  one  was  happy. 
Even  Peggy  Daly  forgot  her  sorrows  for  the  time,  at 
least  so  far  as  to  smile  and  maintain  a  cheerful  coun- 
tenance. I'alher  Doran  and  Andy  Dwjer  kepi  up  a 
running  fire  of  dry  and  humorous  comment  on  the 
various  little  incidents  which  occurred,  to  the  great 
entertainment  of  the  admiring  company. 

"  If  Mr,  Ooultor  and  the  ladies  could  only  see  va 


^Mk'. 


;  OR, 

oast  mutton,  "this  is 
id  in  our  house.  Wo 
I  then,  Con,  except  a 
I  that  we  paid  double 
r  pounds  of  fried  ham, 
e  to  the  Lord,  we  have 
ur  own  pork  and  mut- 
inve  our  own  beef,  too. 
inc,  I  can  hardly  think 
Felix !  won't  you  give 
aicken  and  a  bit  of  the 
O'Regan  and  Winny 
Paul,  what  are  you 
hasn't  a  thing  on  her 

lize  me,"  said   Father 
I  ham  before  him ;  "  I 
asure  you." 
im  was  duly  tried,  and 

like  manner,  and  the 
errily,  the  presence  of 
ady  wit,  giving  an  ad- 

Every  one  was  happy, 
sorrows  for  the  time,  at 
aintain  a  cheerful  coun- 
Aiidy  Dwyer  kepi  up  a 
lorous  comment  on  the 

occurred,  to  the  great 
g  company, 
kdied  oould  only  see  «a 


CMKIRANT  I.IFK  IN  THE  NBW   WORI  D. 


393 


all  now  I'  said  Con  in  an  under  tone  to  Winny,  who 
sal  next  him. 

"  Ah  !  thfit  would  be  too  mu"h  pleasure,"  said 
Winny,  with  a  sigh  ;  <'  I  suppose  we'll  harUy  ev«r 
see  one  of  them  again.  The  poor  old  master  !  II. iw 
he  would  enjoy  this  eight — he's  so  full  of  good 
nature,  and  likes  so  much  to  see  people  happy  and 
contented." 

"  Ah  !  you  speak  of  Thady  Landrigfin,  Winny  ?" 
said  the  priest,  with  a  sly  glance  at  Mrs.  Bergen  ; 
"indeed  I  wish  he  was  here.  Some  of  us  would 
feel  fill  the  better,  I  have  no  doubt." 

Winny  hastened  to  explain,  her  face  all  crimsoned 
over,  but  Father  Doran  stopped  her  short  with, 
"Don't  be  ashamed,  Winny,  don't  be  ashamed. 
Thady'a  a  very  good  young  man,  and  we  should  all 
be  glad  to  see  him — of  course  we  should.  How- 
ever, there's  a  good  time  coming!" 

Winny's  blushes  and  her  efforts  to  justify  herself 
only  added  to  the  mirth  of  the  company,  and  Felix 
Bergen  "  put  the  cap  on  it,"  as  Paul  said,  by  hoping 
that  they'd  all  meet  again  before  long  at  Thady's 
wedding.  "  We'll  not  say  who  the  bride  is  to  be," 
»dded  Felix;  "Winny  there  could  tell  us  if  she 
liked,  but  a  secret's  a  secret,  and  it  wouldn't  be  fair 
to  ask  her  to  break  trust." 

"  Well !  well  I"  said  Father  Doran,  who  saw  that 
Winny'a  embarrassment  beo.ime  really  painful  ; 
"well!  well!  let  us  talk  of  something  else — wed- 
dings are  cJl  iiery  well  in  their  own  place,  but  we 


. 


894 


CON  o'reoan  ;  OR, 


have  other  fish  to  fry  juat  now.  I  suppose,  An. 
drew,  you'll  be  for  taking  lossession  of  your  new 
tenement  »nd  your  new  oftioe  without  loss  of  time." 

"Weill  if  it  was  pleasing  to  you,  sir,  I  would. 
Time,  your  reverence,  is  the  poor  man's  wealth, 
and  every  minute  of  it  is  worth  gold." 

"  Very  true,  Andrew,  very  true,  so,  in  the  name 
of  God,  you  may  go  in  to-morrow.  As  for  furni- 
ture, you  must  only  do  the  best  you  can  for  a  while, 
till  you're  able  to  get  it.  I  hear  you  have  your 
bedding  with  you,  Mrs.  Dwyer." 

Mrs.  Dwyer  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  then 
each  housekeeper  present  offered  a  loan  of  some  ar- 
ticle of  furniture  "  until  such  time  as  they  got  their 
own."  Andy  and  his  wife  were  profuse  in  their 
thanks,  and  this  great  point  settled,  the  conversation 
turned  on  other  matters,  and  the  evening  wore 
away  almost  insensibly  till  Father  Doran,  looking 
at  his  watch,  announced  that  it  was  nine  o'clock. 
He  then  took  his  leave,  and  the  rest  of  the  company 
Boon  followed  his  example,  Winny  taking  Peggy 
home  with  her,  while  the  Dwyer  family  were  di- 
vided between  the  houses  of  the  two  Borgeus  for 
that  night. 

Next  day  was  a  busy,  bustling  day  in  the  settle- 
ment. Andy  Dwyer  and  his  family  were  taken  in 
procession,  as  it  were,  to  the  small  but  pretty  house 
prepared  for  their  reception  contiguous  to  the 
schoolhouse,  Great  was  the  joy  of  the  worthy 
couple  when  they  were  shown  the  piece  of  ground 


KMIOBANT  LIFE  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


395 


,  now.  I  suppose,  A?* 
)088e68ion  of  your  new 
;e  without  lose  of  time." 
g  to  you,  sir,  I  would, 
he  poor  man's  wealth, 
)rth  gold." 

y  true,  bo,  in  the  name 
morrow.  As  for  furni- 
jest  you  can  for  a  while, 
I  hear  you  have  your 
yer." 

be  affirmative,  and  then 
ffered  a  loan  of  some  ar- 
ih  time  as  they  got  their 
I  were  profuse  in  their 
settled,  the  conversation 
and  the  evening  wore 
Father  Doran,  looking 
aat  it  was  nine  o'clock, 
the  rest  of  the  company 
),  Winny  taking  Pegjjy 
Dwyer  family  were  di- 
of  the  two  Bergeus  for 

istling  day  in  the  settlie- 
lis  family  were  taken  in 
e  small  but  pretty  h<)u«e 
ion  contiguous  to  the 
the  joy  of  the  worthy 
)wn  the  piece  of  ground 


•ttftcbed  to  the  house,  and  warm  was  their  grati' 
tude  when  they  found  that  the  neighbors  had  al- 
ready furnished  the  dwelling  with  all  the  most  ne- 
cessary articles  of  furniture,  some  cooking  utensils, 
(fee,  nor  were  provisions  wanting,  for  they  found  a 
Ptore  of  various  kinds  which  might  serve  with  care- 
ful management  for  months  to  come. 


CONCLUSION". 

Now  that  we  have  seen  our  friend  Con  ORegan 
comfortably  settled  with  his  family  in  a  thriving 
township  of  fair  Iowa,  with  Paul  Bergen  for  his 
next  neighbor,  we  have  only  to  sum  up  the  fortunes 
of  our  other  charaoteis  in  as  short  a  space  as  may 
be,  fearing  that  our  readers  may  think  they  have 
fol'owed  them  quite  far  enough. 

We  have  seen  Andy  Dwyer  and  his  good  wife 
put  in  possession  of  their  new  house,  and  on  the  fol- 
lowing Monday  morning  the  boys  of  the  settlement, 
to  the  number  of  fifty  or  thereabouts,  might  be  seen 
trooping  from  every  direction  towards  the  school- 
house  as  a  common  centre.  Nor  were  they,  as 
Shakspeare  has  it, 

"  Creeping  like  snail  unwillingly  to  school," 

for  the  charm  of  novelty  gave  zest  to  their  morning 
journey,  and,  raoreov^,  the  new  master  was  in 
good  repute  amongst  them,  for  his  fame  had  already 
ijone  abroad  as  a  man  who  was  "  not  a  bit  cross." 


8»« 


CON  o'keoa.n  ;  OR, 


So  the  boys  all  gathered  into  the  Bchoolhonse  with 
eager,  hopeful  hearts,  and  were  delighted  to  see  a 
nice  picture  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  over  the  master's 
seat,  with  a  smaller  one  of  St.  Patrick  for  a  visa-vis 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.     Then  the  master 
was  so  kind,  and  cracked  so  many  sly  jokes  in  his 
o*n  peculiar  way,  that  the  actual  business  of  the 
school  lost  much  of  its  dullness,  and  the  hours  of 
study  passed  away  almost  as  quickly  as  any  other. 
For  th»t  day,  at  least,  the  boys  were  well  contented, 
and  BO  was  their  worthy  teacher,  who  relished  his 
new  occupation  much  better  than  the  hard  manual 
labor  at  which  he  had  for  years  eked  out  a  support 
for  his  family.     And  in  the  mornings  and  evenings, 
before  and  after  school,  Andy  and  his  boys  worked 
on  the  farm  with  the  occasional  assistance  of  the 
neighbors,  who  gave  "  the  master"  odd  "  duty  days" 
now  and  then  in  gratitude  for  his  assiduous  atten- 
tion to  the  mental  and  moral  culture  of  their  chil- 
dren.    And  many  a  pleasant  discussion  Andy  had 
the  honor  of  carrying  on  with  Father   Doran,  to 
whom   his   society  was   an   invaluable   acquisition. 
Andy's  house  was  not  more  than  a  stone's  throw 
from  the  priest's,  and  when  any  little  difficulty  arose 
in  the  course  of  liis  official  duties,  he  was  sure  to 
find  an  experienced  counsellor  in   Father   Doran, 
who,  himself,  visited  the  school  almost  every  day. 
Amongst  the  most  distinguished  of  the  boys  was 
Terry  Dwyer,  and  next  to*%im  came,  in  due  time, 
Patsey  Bergen.     Both  these  boys  had  good  natural 


;  OR, 

;o  the  schoolhouBe  with 
ere  delighted  to  Bee  a 
Hrgin  over  the  maeter'a 
;.  Patrick  for  a  visa-vis 
oom.  Then  the  master 
0  many  sly  jokes  in  his 

actual  business  of  the 
ness,  and  the  hours  of 
s  quickly  as  any  other. 
lys  were  well  contented, 
acher,  who  relished  his 
•  than  the  hard  manual 
ears  eked  out  a  support 
mornings  and  evenings, 
ly  and  his  boys  worked 
nonal  assistance  of  the 
laster"  odd  "  duty  days" 
for  his  assiduous  atten- 
ral  culture  of  their  ohil- 
It  discussion  Andy  had 
with  Father  Doran,  to 

invaluable  acquisition. 
■6  than  a  stone's  throw 
any  little  difficulty  arose 

duties,  he  was  sure  to 
jllor  in  Father  Doran, 
hool  almost  every  day. 
lished  of  the  boys  was 
^im  came,  in  due  time, 
e  boys  had  good  natural 


EMIGUANT    LIFE    IN    THE   NEW    WOELI). 


397 


talentR,  and  between  Andy  and  the  priest  they  lacked 
not  the  necessary  cultivation.    Terry  was  something 
of  a  wng  in  his  way,  and  when  be  wanted  to  have 
a  little  fun  he  would  slyly  remind  Patsey  of  his 
former  project  of  running  away  from  father  uud 
mother  to  avoid  going  out  West  amongst  Irishmen 
and  buffaloes.     Patsey's  temper  had  improved  con- 
siderably, so  that  in  general  this  good  natured  rail- 
lory  only  made  him  kugb  and  blush,  but  at  times 
it  happened  that  Terry  went  a  little  too  far,  and 
then  Patsey's  patience  would  suddenly  give  way, 
and  some  angry  words  would  escape  him,  for  which 
he  would  afterwards  apologize.     But  to  say  the 
truth  of  Patsey  and  his  brother  Jim,  they  grew  up 
as  good  sons  as  Terry  himself,  or  his  brothers,  Dan 
and  Willy,  and  that  is  as  much  as  need  be  said  in 
their  proise,  for  the  young  Dwyers  were  held  up  as 
examples  all  the  country  round.     As  for  Janie,  she 
had  been  always  of  a  quiet,  docile  disposition,  fond 
of  staying  at  home  and  helping  her  mother,  so  that 
in  her  no  reformation  was  needed. 

For  some  weeks  after  the  arrival  of  the  Dwyers, 
Peggy  Daly  remained  an  inmate  of  Con  O'Kegan's 
cottage,  and  many  an  hour,  tranquil  at  least  if  not 
happy,  did  the  blind  girl  spend  sitting  on  the  green 
sunny  bank  under  the  maple  trees  at  the  end  of  the 
httle  garden.  There  she  sat  evening  after  evening 
knitting  stockings,  first  for  the  household,  and  then 
for  all  the  neighbors  round,  who  soon  learned  to 
take  a  friendly  interest  in  Peggy,  as  well  from  her 


398 


cow  o'bIOAN;  OB 


melnnnliolv  story,  as  from  her  own  endenring  traits 
of  charncter.  As  oftan  as  Winny  could  manage  it 
BO.  she  would  take  out  her  work  and  hit  with  Pegpy 
in  her  calm  retreat,  the  children  plajang  around 
them.  Biddy  had  neither  taste  nor  time,  as  she 
used  to  say,  for  sewing;  she  preferred  leaving  that 
to  Winny  while  she  attended  to  the  work  of  the 
house  and  the  d  ;iry,  the  rearing  of  poultiy,  calves, 
lambs,  etc.     This  was  Biddy's  element,  and  in  it  she 

was  happy. 

It  so  happened  that,  after  a  few  wee  ks,  there  was 
another  joyous  bustle  amongst  our  circle  of  friends 
and  neighbors.    Con  O'  l^egan's  house  was  the  scene 
of  great  festivity,  for  Winny  became  the  wife  of 
Thady  Landiigan,  and  the  wedding  was  of  course 
held  there,  and  a  great  wedding  it  was,  too,  and  the 
neighbors  flocked  from  far  and  nenr  on  Con's  invi- 
tation, for  Con  was  resolved  that  Winny  should  be 
married  oflf  with  all  the  festive  honors  of  their  race. 
The  two  Mrs.  Bergens  and  good  Mrs.  Landrigan 
gave  the  benefit  of  their  practical  experience  on  the 
occasion,  together  with  various  et  ceteras  in  the 
shape  of  home  made  dainties  for  the  greater  adorn- 
ment of  the  festive  board.    And  Winny  was  the 
modestest  and  prettiest  of  brides,  with  her  mild 
eyes  bashfully  cast  dowa,  and  her  delicate  features 
shadowed  by  a  thoughtful,  subdued  expression. 
As  for  Thady  he  was  all  gaiety  and  good  humor. 
No  cloud    obscured    his    happiness,  no    anxious 
thoughts  threw  tb^ir  gloom  athwart  the  sunshine 


;  OB 

f  own  endenring  traits 
rinny  could  manage  it 
jrk  and  hit  with  Pegf,'y 
ildren  plajnng  around 
,aBte  nor  time,  as  she 
preferred  leaving  that 
d  to  the  work  of  the 
ring  of  poultiy,  calves, 
'r  element,  and  in  it  she 

a  few  wee  ks,  there  was 
gst  our  circle  of  friends 
,n's  house  was  the  scene 
ly  became  the  wife  of 
wedding  was  of  course 
ding  it  was,  too,  and  the 
ind  nenr  on  Con's  invi- 
l  that  Winny  should  be 
ive  honors  of  their  race. 
I  good  Mrs.  Landrigan 
ictical  experience  on  the 
ii-ious  et  ceteras  in  the 
3S  for  the  greater  adorn- 
.    And  Winny  was  the 
t  brides,  with  her  mild 
,nd  her  delicate  featitres 
il,   subdued  expression, 
jaiety  and  good  humor, 
happiness,  no    anxious 
n  athwart  the  sunshine 


EMIOItANT    LIFE    IN    THE    NEW    WOIILO. 


399 


of  the  hour.  It  was  seldom  indeed  that  Thady  did 
think,  and  that  day  he  thought  les«  than  ever. 
Care  and  he  might  be  married  any  day,  as  he  used 
to  say  himself,  for  there  wasn't  a  drop's  blood  be- 
tween them. 

Nora  Bergen  was  one  of  the  happiest  of  the  party 
that  day,  for  she  loved  Winny  as  a  dear  younger 
sii^ter,  and  she  knew  that  Thady  Landrigan  was 
"  just  the  boy  to  make  her  a  good  husband  1"     And 
Con  O'Regan  listened,  and  smiled,  and  said  noth- 
ing.    He  rejoiced,  it  is  true,  in  the  prospect  of 
Winny's  happiness,  but  still  he  knew  that  she  was 
about  to  leave  his  home  for  one  of  her  own,  and 
with  her  a  portion  of  the  sunshine  was  sure  to  van- 
ish from  his  cottage  door.     Their  lot  had  been  so 
long  bound  up  together,  that  poor  Con  could  not 
behold  their  approaching  sepsu-atiou  without  a  pang. 
Still  he  had  no  wish  to  prevent  the  match,  for  he 
knew  Thady  was  likely  to  make  Winny  happy,  and, 
"  of  couise,"  said  he,  "  it's  what  must  come  some 

day." 

WTien  Winny  went  to  her  new  home  she  took 
Peggy  Daly  with  her,  having  first  consulted  her 
mother-in-law  on  the  subject,  and  obtained  her  full 
and  cordial  consent.  Mrs.  Landrigan  was  none  of 
your  crr.nky,  queralous  old  women.  She  had  car- 
ried on  into  old  age  much  of  that  careless,  happy 
temperament,  which  had  been  hers  through  early 
iiid  u:eridian  life,  and  which  her  son  inherited  from 
her  to  his  own  great  comfort  and  advantage. 


400 


COM  o began;  or 


The  good  old  woman  had  fioi  i  the  first  taken 
quite  a  fancy  to  Peggy,  aii  :  \  i  i,  therefore,  well 
pleuBed  at  the  prospect  of  having  her  a  resitlent  in 
the  family.  Tims,  then,  was  poor  Peggy  provided 
with  a  permanent  and  a  comfortable  home,  and  in 
the  constant  society  of  Winny  she  might  have  been 
happy,  could  she  have  forgotten  the  Avretched  fate 
of  him  who  had  for  so  many  years  formed  the  sole 
object  of  her  care.  Many  and  many  a  little  peni- 
tential work  did  Peggy  perform,  for  the  benefit  of 
his  soul,  unknown  to  all  the  world,  as  she  thought, 
though  Winny  was  not  without  seeing  and  suspect- 
ing what  was  going  on.  Not  a  year  passed  over 
Peggy's  head  without  her  having  a  certain  number 
of  masses  offered  up  for  the  repose  of  Tom's  soul, 
and  when  Father  Doran  would  object  to  taking  her 
little  offering,  saying  that  he  would  do  what  she 
wanted,  without  her  depriving  herself  of  her  little 
earnings,  "  Oh !"  she  would  say,  with  a  touching 
smile,  "  that's  the  only  thing  I  have  to  do  with  my 
earnings.  Father  Doran,  and  it's  the  only  comfort  I 
have,  too,  go  you'll  not  refuse  to  take  it,  your  reve- 
rence." tf  oiJT.-j,  it  was  impossible  to  refuse,  so 
the  gor.ii  pj.i  i!  '  ij  only  to  '"v  .  in,  and  promise  to 
say  tl  I  Mnw  as  ajon  as  possible.  At  times  Peggy 
would  go  and  spend  a  week,  or  perhaps  two,  at 
Paul  Bergen's,  to  help  Nora  and  Jenny  with  their 
winter's  or  summer's  knitting,  and  Peggy's  visits 
were  always  festive  occasions  to  Nora  and  the 
children.     Once  in  a  while,  too,  she  had  to  pay  Mrs. 


IMIOKANT   LIFE   IN   THE  HEW    WOBLD. 


401 


rni  the  first  tnken 
•1  i,  therefore,  well 
ig  her  a  resident  in 
ur  Peggy  provided 
;able  home,  and  in 
le  might  have  been 
1  the  wretched  fate 
lis  formed  the  sole 
many  a  httle  p<!ni- 
I,  for  the  benedt  of 
Id,  as  nhe  thought, 
seeing  and  snspect- 
i  year  passed  over 
g  a  certain  number 
lose  of  Tom's  soul, 
)bject  to  taking  her 
TOuld  do  what  she 
berself  of  her  little 
y,  with  a  toucliing 
have  to  do  with  my 
i  the  only  comfort  I 
3  take  it,  your  reve- 
jssible  tr>  refuse,  so 
p  in,  nnd  promise  to 
e.     At  times  Peggy 
or  perhaps  two,  at 
d  Jenny  with  their 
and  Peggy's  visits 
to  Nora  and  the 
she  had  to  pay  Mis. 


Felix  a  visit,  and  then  Biddy  O'Regan  would  pre- 
tend to  be  jealous,  so  that  Peggy  had  to  spend  some 
days  with  her  before  she  went  home  again,  in  order 
to  pacify  her. 

After  Father  Doran  himpelf,  Andy  Dwyer  was 
the  greatest  man  in  the  settlemenc  for  years  and 
years.  His  house  was  the  emporium  of  news,  as 
his  school  was  of  knowledge.  Every  Sunday  after 
Mass,  and  again  in  the  evening,  the  neighbors 
gathered  in  from  far  and  near  to  hear  the  papers 
read,  and  Andy  was  a  proud  and  happy  mau  when 
dealing  out  the  news  of  the  day  to  an  admiring  au- 
dience, with  notes  and  comments  of  his  own.  Then 
Andy  had  letters  to  write,  read,  and  answer  for  all 
those  who  were  "  no  scholars  "  themselves,  and  that 
was  another  very  important  part  of  his  functions. 
And  though  there  was  a  tacit  understanding  be- 
tween him  and  bis  clients,  that  they  were  never  to 
ofifer  him  payment  for  any  such  little  services,  yet 
we  have  good  reason  to  know,  indeed  on  the  author- 
ity of  Mrs.  Dwyer  herself,  that  Andy  was  paid 
over  and  over  again  in  presents  of  one  kind  or 
another.  Such,  then,  was  the  even  tenor  of  Andy's 
way  in  the  prairies  of  the  far  West. 

And  Con  O'Regan  was  as  happy  and  contented 
as  man  can  be  here  below.  It  is  true  he  had  to 
work  hard  at  times,  and  at  certain  seasons  early 
and  late,  but  what  of  that  when  his  labor  went  to 
improve  his  own  land  and  to  bring  in  golden  crops 
for  the  benefit  of  himself  and  hia  family.    Sur- 


402 


COK  o'begak;  OB 


rounded  by  friends  and  neighbors,  with  Winny 
happily  settled  within  an  hour's  walk  of  his  own 
dwelling,  Con  might  well  be  happy,  for  he  hved  in 
an  atmosphere  of  peace  and  purity  where  nothmg 
was  strange  or  uncongenial,  but  all  was  home-like 

and  natural.  , 

About  a  year  after  the  receipt  of  Mr.  Coultei  8 
last  letter,  when  Con  remitted  the  final  instalment 
of  the  Misses  Coulters'  loan,  he  received  for  answer, 
after  the  lapse  of  some  few  weeks,  a  few  cold  Imea 
from  Mrs.  Coulter  stating  that  her  husband  had 
died  of  apoplexy  just  two  months  before,  and  that 
she  had  sent  the  draft  to  Miss  Coulter.    Not  a  trace 
of  emotion  was  visible  either  m  the  stiff  regularity 
of  the  writing,  or  in  the  cold  formality  of  the  brief, 
businese-liRe  epistle,  and  yet  the  letter  threw  a 
Kloom  over  the  sunshine  of  Con's  and  Winny  s  life 
for  many  a  day  to  come.     They  knew  and  felt  the 
value  of  the  heart  whose  warm  pulses  were  stopped 
forever  and  the  sorrow  which  the  widow  should 
have  felt,  but  did  not,  they  felt  indeed.    Many  a 
bitter  tear  did  Winny  shed  for  the  loss  of  her  gen- 
erous benefactor,  and  her  heart  was  filled  with 
anguish  as  she  thought  of  how  Uttle  preparation  he 
had  ever  made  for  that  dread  eternity  in  which  he 
was  now  engulfed.    Con  sympathized  fully  and 
sincerely  in  his  sister's  feelings,  and  they  both  felt 
indignant  at  the  calm  indifference  wherewith  Mrs. 
Coulter  communicated  such  doleful  news. 
But  another  letter  which  Con  soon  after  received 


f;  OB 


BinOBANT   LITE   IS  THE  NEW   WORLD. 


403 


ighbors,  with  Winny 
)ur'B  walk  of  his  own 
happy,  for  he  lived  in 
purity  where  nothing 
but  all  was  home-like 

iceipt  of  Mr.  Coulter's 
)d  the  final  instalment 
he  received  for  answer, 
weeks,  a  few  cold  lines 
that  her  husband  had 
lonths  before,  and  that 
38  Coulter.    Not  a  trace 
ir  in  the  stiff  regularity 
I  formality  of  the  brief, 
et  the  letter  threw  a 
Con's  and  Winny's  life 
r/iey  knew  and  felt  the 
rm  pulses  were  stopped 
lich  the  widow  should 
y  felt  indeed.    Many  a 
for  the  loss  of  her  gen- 
•  heart  was  filled  with 
low  little  preparation  he 
ad  eternity  in  which  he 
sympathized  fully  and 
ings,  and  they  both  felt 
ffercDce  wherewith  Mrs. 
1  doleful  news. 
Con  soon  after  received 


changed  the  whole  current  of  his  and  Winny's 
thoughts.  This  last  was  from  Miss  Debby  Coulter, 
acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  last  instalment  of 
the  loan,  and  acquainting  Con  with  the  death  of 
her  brother.  Miss  Debby's  letter  was  short,  but  it 
breathed  the  very  soul  of  sorrow,  and  said  that 
neither  the  writer  nor  her  sister  had  ever  recovered 
the  shock  of  her  brother's  death.  But  what  most 
iuterested  Con  was  the  information  contained  in  the 
postscript.  "It  is  said,"  wrote  Miss  Debby,  "  that 
Mrs.  Coulter  is  about  to  take  a  second  husband  in 
the  person  of  Dr.  Eichards,  whose  wife  died  last 
year.  In  fact,  the  affair  is  all  settled,  but  the  mar- 
riage is  not  to  take  place  till  the  end  of  a  year  after 
poor  Sammy's  death.  Well !  let  her  marry  who  she 
pleases.  It  is  nothing  to  us;  we  will  never  ex- 
change words  with  her  again." 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Con,  as  he  rushed  breathless 
into  Winny's  kitchen,  a  few  hours  after  receiving 
the  letters  "hurrah! — I've  good  news  for  you, 
Winny!" 

"Ah  then,  what  on  earth  is  it?"  said  Winny,  lay- 
ing down  the  iron  which  she  had  been  using. 

"  You'd  never  guess,"  said  Con,  "  so  I  may  as 
well  tell  you  :  Mrs.  Coulter  and  Dr.  Richards  are 
going  to  make  a  match  of  it.  The  doctor's  wife 
died  last  year,  it  seems.  Isn't  that  glorious!  I 
wish  them  luck  of  all  the  happiness  they'll  have  to- 
gether I — ^I  do  from  my  heart  out — ^it'U  be  a  fine 
oatand-dog  life  they'll  have  of  it,  Winny  j  won't  it? 


.-i^iftlAiKBStfaKWBt. 


404 


CON  o'rkgan;  OB 


The  old  madam  will  give  him  tho  worth  of  his  vil 
lainy  to  you,  I'll  go  bail,  and  if  he  don't  revenge 
the  poor  dear  master  on  her,  my  name's  not  Con 
O' Regan." 

"Well!  sure  enough,"  said  Winny,  drawing  a 
long  sigh,  "sure  enough  things  come  round  mighty 
queer,  but,  as  you  say.  Con,  they're  a  fine  match  for 
each  other,  and  I  think  neither  was  ever  matched 
before,  for  they  say  Mrs.  Richards  was  a  very  good 
sort  of  a  woman  in  her  way,  and  we  all  know  what 
poor  Mr.  Coulter  was.  However,  I  wish  neither  of 
them  any  ill,  and  I  hope  they'll  be  happier  together 
than  you  or  I  expect.  Thanks  be  to  God,  we're  out 
of  their  power,  and  have  nothing  to  do  with  them 
or  the  like  of  them  any  more." 

Peggy  Daly  soon  after  received  a  letter  from  her 
Hister,  informing  her  that  Barney  was  worse  than 
ever  at  the  drink,  so  that  her  life  was  miserable. 
She  had  been  always  hoping  that  he  would  be  en- 
couraged by  the  good  accounts  from  theii-  friends 
in  the  West  to  begin  to  save  in  order  to  go  out 
there,  but  latterly  she  had  given  up  all  hope,  and 
had  resigned  herself  to  the  prospect  of  a  life  of 
wretchedness.     Most  of    Barney's  earnings, 
said,  were  spent  in  the  grog-shop,  so  that  at  times 
she  could  hardly  get  enough  to  keep  Ufe  in  herself 
and  the  children.     This  was  the  last  account  Peggy 
had  from  her  poor  sister,  who,  it  appeared,  died  in 
the  course  of  the  following  year,  whereupon  the 
four  children  whom  she  left  were  taken  from  their 


^■*^*T^«!iW^**»»*.^,**^6<|^»iW«M**r#>fEWW. 


OR 

L  the  worth  of  his  vil 
I  if  he  don't  revenge 
r,  my  name's  not  Con 

d  Winny,  drawing  a 
gs  come  round  mighty 
bey 're  a  fine  match  for 
jer  was  eyer  matched 
hards  was  a  very  good 
and  we  all  know  what 
ever,  I  wish  neither  of 
r'U  be  happier  together 
ks  be  to  God,  we're  out 
(thing  to  do  with  them 

B." 

eived  a  letter  from  her 
3amey  was  worse  than 
ler  life  was  miserable. 
f  that  he  would  be  en- 
ints  from  their  friends 
?e  in  order  to  go  out 
given  up  all  hope,  and 
e  prospect  of  a  life  of 
Jamey's  earnings,  she 
g-shop,  so  that  at  times 
h  to  keep  life  in  herself 
i  the  last  accoimt  Peggy 
rho,  it  appeared,  died  in 
ig  year,  whereupon  the 
t  were  taken  from  their 


EMIGRANT   LITE   IN  THE  NEW   WORLD, 


405 


wretched  father  by  the  city  authorities,  to  be 
brought  up  according  to  their  good  liking  as  their 
own,  undisputed  property. 

Alas!  how  many  Irish  families  in  these  great 
cities  of  the  Eastern  coast  end  just  like  Bainoy 
Brady's! 


I 


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CP 

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